Normality
by Nightwitch87
Summary: What happens once the drama is over? Will it ever be over? Olivia tries to rebuild her life post-Lewis and move forward as she and Brian struggle to make their relationship work. Jan.-Aug. 2014, mostly canon behind the scenes to Season 15, partly AU in later chapters.
1. Dripping

**Normality**

Squeaking. That's what this was, she realized somewhere at the back of her mind, in that half aware place she wouldn't remember later on. Squeaking of some sort. She ignored it, her brain unwilling to process it fully. Go back to sleep. "Ugh, come on" a hoarse voice mumbled.

Nope, this wasn't happening. She was definitely awake. Drowsy, but awake. She opened her eyes. Too much light. Too much lead in her limbs, a dizzy fog around her. And the damn squeaking. "Brian?"

He startled and turned around in his crouched position, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Wanted to let you sleep in. Sorry."

Too many words. "What are you do-" The end to her blissful unawareness came rapidly. Her badge on the stove. The feeling of the hot keys on her skin. Lewis shouting. Her public humiliation. Brian's face when he saw Lewis. _It's over. I am safe now. Until he gets out. But he's been locked away. I didn't cry in court. I didn't really. I did good. They hated me. It was my fault. It wasn't, it's his, I'm an idiot for blaming myself! I'm weak. I lost it. They'll take it all away, everything. _The woman hanging. Her feet, kicking.

"Liv? Hey?" He was by her side in an instant. It still freaked her out how that happened sometimes, how she lost entire moments, slipping in and out of reality. Brian was usually pretty good about giving her space, about not overdoing it or getting all worked up, about not creeping up on her. "It's all right. It's over now." He spoke to her quietly before lightly touching her hand. The same as always. Empty words, but the ritual was somewhat reassuring.

She consciously slowed down her breathing, steadying herself, and took his hand.

"How did you sleep?"

"All right." To her surprise, this was somewhat true. She had been so exhausted after everything, unable to talk, shower, eat or do anything. Anything at all besides fall into bed. She could barely remember getting home last night, and nothing since then. She had no recollection aside from a vague memory of Brian's voice talking soothingly as she screamed out once. Which was nothing, compared to the nights they had been having again these past few weeks, as the trial dragged out, disturbing their fragile peace.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled wanly. "What were you doing in the bathroom?"

"Trying to fix the sink. Not much success so far." A trickle of sweat was running down his neck, right into his grey sweatshirt.

She raised her eyebrows. "Now? That tap has been dripping on and off for the past month."

He shrugged. "Just needed to do find something to do, I guess."

She felt a small pang of guilt. "You okay?" The previous day had to have been tough for him as well, yet all the focus had been on her. _No, don't think about yesterday. Not now._

"Yeah." There was an awkward pause. It was too soon to talk about it.

"I'll help you fix that tap."

He groaned. "Please, no more right now. How about I fix us some breakfast instead?"

"That sounds-" Her eyes fell on the alarm clock. 13:06. "It's one p.m.?! How long have I been asleep for? What day is it, even?"

He couldn't help but give a short laugh at that. "No worries, it's only been like 17 hours."

"You could have woken me up." How could she still feel so groggy after all that sleep? Her head was heavy, and her back ached.

"You seemed to need it. And we got nowhere to be today. Take it easy. I'll go make some breakfast."

"Thanks. And then we'll start on that tap again." You had to begin somewhere.


	2. Comfort

"I'm so happy for you." She hugged him. They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying the warmth before she stepped back, still smiling. "You've earned this."

"Thanks. I mean, it's not much of a step up, but it's-"

"What are you talking about? They're putting you in charge again, giving you the lead on their cases without Tucker glancing over your shoulder. This soon after assigning you to the unit? That's some show of confidence." _And this has nothing to do with how things went down with Nick_, she told herself. She needed to keep these things separate in her mind, or she wouldn't be able to be supportive. These days, a lot of her life seemed to be about differentiating and separating between things. Creating these boundaries had taken her long enough, and now that they had been erected, now that she was keeping things balanced –just about- she wasn't going to throw all that out the window again.

"No kidding." He held up a bottle of wine. "I got us something to celebrate."

"Perfect." She headed into the kitchen to grab glasses and a bottle opener.

"Guess they think I'm not afraid to go up against the blue line" he said loud enough for her to hear. "Not gonna make many friends that way."

"Well, IAB's not exactly popular, but we both know there are some cops out there who only picked the job because they love playing big and pushing people around. Someone needs to handle them. Better to manage the cases than to just do somebody else's dirty work." When she returned, he had plopped down on the couch, putting his feet on the table. She hated when he did that, especially with the new table, but didn't say anything this time, sitting down next to him and taking a look at the fancy-looking bottle. "What is this stuff?"

"A red."

"I can see that." She put in the corkscrew and started twisting it.

"Something expensive, French and impossible to pronounce."

Typical. She was clearly the wine connoisseur in this relationship. "So you bought it because you liked the picture of the mountains on the label?"

"Basically." He grinned, playing with the string at the back of her shirt.

She handed him a glass and raised her own. "To fresh starts. I'm proud of you."

"Hey, you're the one who's made it to the top of the unit. You got reason to be proud."

They clinked glasses and she took a sip of the wine. "Hm, pretty good. Dry." This was much better than drinking on her own, which she knew she really shouldn't be doing so much of.

"You like dry."

"I do." She put down her glass on the table and leaned back, snuggling up next to him so her head came to rest on his shoulder. She loved this part of the week. Just coming home to someone, not really doing anything, sharing or not sharing, not even having to talk but simply unwinding. They hadn't been doing nearly enough of that lately, with him working the strangest of hours and her working – well, non-stop. She loved being so comfortable with him, a comfort born out of trust and familiarity. It was as if she had known him for a very long time, which was amazing considering that he had changed so much in all these years, as had she. There was a huge chunk of time missing, and it had taken some work to get to know each other again. Still, they had lived through a lifetime of ups and downs this past year alone.

"You know," she could feel his lips lightly grazing the top of her head as he spoke, "this means more long hours. More unexpected calls and paperwork. We'll see even less of each other."

"I know." They sometimes went days without exchanging a word beyond "good morning" and "see you later". She'd been taking more and more paperwork home with her in the hope of changing that. "We'll be okay."

"Yeah." She could hear the relief in his voice, and knew that on some level, he had been nervous about telling her. There was no need. One of the things she loved about him was precisely that he wasn't focused only on her. They had their separate lives, in addition to what they shared. He got that. He hadn't needed to discuss everything with her, either, didn't have that incessant need to talk. They barely talked about work at all. And when they had moved into the new apartment together, it hadn't been this huge deal. It had just been time.

"You like the work, right?"

"Yeah, it's all right. Less…messy. Or messy in a different way."

She understood. No shots flying around, no homeless kids overdosing, no prostitutes being beaten up. "Think you'll miss the mess?" She missed her old work, in an odd way, not that she had much time to think about it.

"Nope. Not for now, anyway."

"Hmm." She took another sip of wine and put down the glass on the table again. It was actually a pretty good one. They remained quiet for a moment, each alone with their thoughts. Brian's hand had begun to caress her arm, and her tiredness soon began to fade.

"By the way, this Saturday, there's this sports fair going on at the park. They have all kinds of new things and you can try them all. They even have bossaball."

"They have what?"

"Bossaball. It sounds fun, it's like volleyball except they put up these trampolines and a kind of big inflatable thing around it."

She laughed. Sometimes, when he opened his mouth, she couldn't believe the things that came out. "And you're looking to discover a new hidden talent?"

"What? Come on, it'll be fun."

"Brian" she groaned. "You know we're not 15 anymore, right?"

"We can watch how it's done first."

"Well, as much as I'd love to see you do that, I can't" she sighed. "I'm working Saturday, remember?"

"Oh. Right." His hand stalled, and she immediately regretted that she couldn't give him a different answer. They hadn't laughed like that in a while. It felt like a tentative step back to simpler days.

She sat up slightly and turned her head so she could look at him. "Maybe we can do something Saturday night. Maybe."

He shook his head, trying to hide his disappointment. "Let's not make plans only to break them. Again." He looked at her for a moment, and the smile returned, spreading to his eyes. His face was only inches from hers. "Guess we'll need to make up for it now."

She picked up on the sudden shift in mood. "We don't own a bossaball court…field?"

"Shame, really. We could think of an alter-"

She interrupted him by closing the distance for a kiss. It took him a second to respond, surprised as he had to be by the spontaneity. Neither of them had really taken the initiative lately, with the trial, Nick around the apartment and the subsequent drama, as well as their promotions. There just hadn't been space for that aspect of their relationship. But tonight, she needed this, feeling him, experiencing pleasure, wanting, being wanted. Yet he was almost hesitant in touching her at first, staying modest and gentle and above her clothes. It was Olivia who untucked his shirt and eventually straddled him, as he trailed a line of kisses down her neck. "Bedroom?" he mumbled, barely audible.

"Shh. Don't talk."


	3. Disintegrating

She kept picking up the pen and putting it down again. Picking it up, putting it down. Picking it up, holding it against her lips, putting it down. Where was he? He better have a good excuse for this. Any attempt to actually focus on the text in front of her was useless, any attempt to take sensible notes even more so. Maybe she would do better working on the computer. Maybe not. She was pointlessly wasting time, all because of him. She shouldn't base everything on him. She should simply take a shower and go to bed, but the thought of sleep seemed ludicrous right now. Where the hell was he? She put down her papers once again, too fidgety to sort them and put them back into the folder. She couldn't stand the silence, the thickness of it, but she couldn't tolerate the TV or the radio either. She was just listening to it, the sound of cars going by outside, the occasional siren in the distance. If she turned on the TV now, she couldn't listen, even though she wasn't listening for anything in particular.

She got up and walked to the window, pulling the curtains shut in a more symmetrical way after a brief glimpse down at the empty street. Her sensory system seemed to notice everything magnified by ten, hyperawake, hyperalert. She knew she should be taking a warm shower to relax her; she was still sweaty from earlier and freezing, but irrationally, she didn't want to miss the chance to yell at him. She had turned on every light in the apartment. She had put her phone away to charge, not so far away she wouldn't hear it beeping just in case, but far enough so she wouldn't check it every other minute. She had called the night shift at work to check in. It was a regular weekday night.

She returned to pacing the apartment, tidying and spot cleaning as she went. She really hated this, thinking about him so much, worrying pointlessly, getting angry, feeling like her skin was prickling and her pulse rushing. If the situation were reversed, she would hate him being so needy. But everything would have been so much simpler if he had just called and said something. Everything would be much easier if she weren't acting so dependent today for absolutely no reason. She kept telling herself that it didn't mean anything, that he was always there when it counted, that he wasn't acting unreliable on purpose. He had probably been held up by his boss, and might feel bad for it anyway. They had gotten into a bad routine of that, messing up then feeling guilty and overcompensating. Avoiding serious conversations.

She was trying to keep her thoughts busy, to think of other things, away from the darkness and thoughts of how things could never be the same again, could never be all right again, and why that might be. No. This was her second chance, like it had been Cragen's. But it took work, every second of every day, sometimes more and sometimes less, and that was exhausting. Her mind kept jumping from one thing to the next, Brian, the work she should be doing right now, the work she'd left behind, Nick and his issues, Cragen, Brian, wine, her mother, anything at all. _Calm down._

She was about to pick up her file again, when she heard a key turning in the lock. Finally. After a momentary startle, an immediate relief washed over her. At least the waiting was over.

"Hey, it's me!" he shouted the second he entered, as usual. Tonight, it annoyed her, reminding her of when she'd pulled her gun on him. Like that was going to happen again.

She took a deep breath, composing herself, and crossed her arms.

"Liv?" He stuck his head around the corner while taking off his shoes. "Oh, hi."

"Hey."

"I-" His smile immediately disappeared when he saw her. "Shit, I'm sorry. The gym. Did you wait long?"

"A while."

He entered the room, approaching her warily. "I'm sorry I didn't make it, things were crazy. I was doing this interview, and-"

"You couldn't have called?"

"I was in an interview. I couldn't interrupt that, it was-"

She didn't listen, not really caring about the justification. Of course there was a good reason; there was always a reason. What irritated her more than anything was how casual he was about this, how he'd been perfectly happy coming home and now, only as an afterthought, realised he'd even forgotten about her.

"-went on and on."

"We just talked about it at lunchtime. How hard is it to pick up a phone?"

"I know, you're right" he raised his hands. "Look, I get that you're pissed."

"Of course I am!" And of course, he was trying to avoid a fight by apologizing and agreeing. It was his thing. "You said you'd be there!" She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. She was way too upset about this, and felt slightly stupid for clinging to his words like that.

His expression changed again, from surprise to concern. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realise it was so…important…"

She shook her head and turned away from him. "Hey." He took a few steps closer and touched her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "What happened?"

"Nothing." She looked at him and saw the worry lines etched into his face. Once again, she was reminded how different he was from the young man she had once known.

"Nothing?"

"A stressful day that ended in being stood up."

"You sure? How was the gym?"

"Fine." She had no interest in discussing the gym, the one positive thing in this day until those beefcakes had started leering and making comments, nor her feelings when she had been waiting outside, cold and trying to reach him but finding out that her battery had died. She had walked home, because she hadn't felt like being around all those people on the subway. But that was hardly something she could put on him. Still, if he had just shown up like he had said he would, none of it would have seemed so bad.

"And you're…doing all right?" he asked with a special emphasis, a particular, slightly awkward hesitation.

"No" she stopped him harshly. "Don't, Bri, just don't make it about that."

"Isn't it?"

"I'm not saying that isn't part of it, but don't treat me like I'm traumatized and irrational, and like you standing me up isn't enough of a reason to be pissed!"

"That's not what I was saying."

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me." It was something she'd been waiting to say for a long time, looking for the words to express it.

"Where is this coming from?" he exclaimed, visibly confused.

"I just want you to listen to what I'm saying and take it seriously."

"I'm trying!" he shouted, obviously struggling to contain his anger. "Though you're not making it easy. Look, I just don't know what you want me to say! "

"But that's the point!" This was getting so frustrating. "I don't want you to say anything, I just need you to show up when you say you're going to, that's all!"

"Fine! You know, I'm not the only one who's been bailing out on things."

Of course, this had to come sooner or later. "I always tell you if I can't make it!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you almost never make it!" She hadn't seen him this angry in a long time. He didn't really get angry with her, or was always trying very hard not to, which made her feel guilty as a result. It felt odd, to be having an actual argument with him. "I see more of Tucker than I do of you, and when you're here, you bring work home."

"I asked you if you mind the other day, you said no."

"What else would I say?"

"The truth!" She ran her hands through her hair. "Simple as that."

"Can't remember the last time anything was simple" he said bitterly, and although the words stung, what was more unsettling was how genuinely hurt he looked at this moment. He was right.

"I know" she replied quietly after a moment.

He shook his head sadly, looking very tired. "Everything just keeps going wrong, nothing is ever right. Nothing stays good. Every tiny thing screws things up."

She knew what he was talking about. She had been doing a lot of thinking on the long walk home from the gym, when she had noticed once again just how fragile her sense of safety was these days. It often seemed like things could never come naturally to her, or them, ever again. After everything they had been through together, they should be able to make it through anything, and sometimes, rarely, it felt like they could. But at other times, it felt like that was all they had left, pain and mutual dependency, and they were walking on eggshells around each other to avoid spiraling into the next crisis. They couldn't seem to get past the fact that they had seen each others' scars, that he had taken a pair of scissors from her and sat with her for the whole night, never forcing her to talk about anything. There was no lightness left once you had gone to those places.

"I want to do the right things but…I can't do more. Sorry. I just don't know…" He clenched and unclenched his left hand, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know how to fix it."

"Me neither. I'm sorry."


	4. Fix It

She threw away the tangerine peel and grabbed her coffee cup, leaning against the kitchen counter. She hadn't really felt like sitting down for a real breakfast, but there was still time for coffee.

Brian rushed in, glancing around the room while tucking in his shirt. Apparently, it was an office day, from the formal look of his outfit. "Have you seen my phone?"

"You left it on the counter again. I plugged it in to charge." She gestured over to the outlet behind the fruit bowl.

"Oh. Thanks." He unplugged the charger and slipped his cell into his pocket, turning to leave, but stopping in his tracks. "Er, look. About last night-"

"Let's not get into this now" she stopped him.

He frowned. "We have to talk about this."

"Not now, we don't. We have to be at work soon." She really didn't feel up to another argument at the start of what was going to be a long day, starting with a meeting with Barba to discuss evidence for a court case. She couldn't get distracted now.

"I don't want to keep putting it off. We'll talk more later, but I'm really sorry about last night. Standing you up was shitty of me. I just wanted to say that."

"You did." Her reply came out a little harsher than intended. She knew that she had overreacted last night as a result of stress. Being threatened at work hadn't helped.

"Won't happen again."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Come on..."

"Not when it's under my control anyway."

He was trying so hard to please her, so sweet and repentant that she just wanted to say "it's all right" again, like last time and the time before that, but she couldn't. It would have diverted from the actual issue, pretending that this was just about him forgetting one meeting. "We both know that's only part of the problem" she voiced the thought, breaking her resolution not to get into this now.

"Yeah. " He tugged at his tie uncomfortably, adjusting it. "But it's a part we can fix. I want to fix it. I love you."

She smiled at him sadly, in all his sincerity and trust. "Look, I don't want to be that person who holds you back or tells you where to be at what time, because I wouldn't want that, either. I don't want you to be with me because you have to, or because you said you would. Only because you want to."

"What? I'd much rather spend time with you than undercover or around Tucker, you know that."

She wasn't so sure of that. "You don't have to say that. It's okay. Just don't…" She paused, running her finger along the rim of her coffee cup. The morning light reflected off the red surface. "If this isn't working, don't stay because you don't want to be the bad guy who leaves after everything. You're a good guy."

He gaped at her incredulously. "Are you seriously trying to get me to break up with you over morning coffee?"

"No" she answered quickly, without thinking. It was her gut response. "I just don't want us to only stay together to see each other occasionally, out of convenience or because times are hard and we can't be alone."

He moved closer, around the counter so the physical barrier between them wasn't there anymore. She wasn't sure if she liked that right now, but she tolerated it. "Do you feel that way about us?" he asked calmly.

She thought about the question for a moment, wanting to answer honestly. It was hard to find the right words. "No. I mean, yes and no. I do love you. I just wish…it's hard to imagine happier times right now."

"We've had happy times." She looked up at him, as he slowly closed the distance between them. His expression was serious and attentive, but there was this particular softness in his eyes that often remained hidden outside these walls, a hint of emotion playing around his mouth as he studied her face. He gently took both of her hands into his, just holding them loosely. They stood like this for a moment, and she was suddenly grateful for the contact. She could feel the rough skin on his palms, and she knew that she didn't want to break that. She looked down at their joined hands.

He leaned in, ever so slightly, and she could sense the warmth of his body when he said: "I'm not with you because I feel sorry for you, okay? You make me happy."


	5. Life

0.03%. That was the proportion of pregnancies that took place in her age bracket, including all pregnancies brought about via IVF. Which was not to be confused with the odds of getting pregnant at her age, but still, the likelihood was slim. Google had more frightening statistics on offer: the risk of miscarriage before 20 weeks gestation, the risk of stillbirth, chance of delivering a baby with a chromosomal abnormality. Elderly primagravida was the official term for the, apparently, concerning condition of being pregnant at her age. If she was, hypothetically speaking. As much as she resented being referred to as "elderly", the statistics couldn't be denied. Number one: It was highly unlikely that she was pregnant at all. Number two: If she was pregnant, it might not last. Number three: Even if it did last, there were all sorts of risks attached, although the fact that she was healthy and in good physical shape was positive.

She clicked through the pages, reading piece after piece advocating pregnancy in your 20s, which wasn't exactly reassuring. This wasn't getting her anywhere, since Google couldn't tell her if she was or was not pregnant. All she knew was that it was theoretically possible, that there was no reason to believe she was going into menopause already, and that she had been ignoring certain ambiguous signs for too long to put off getting a pregnancy test any longer.

Even the thought of going out to buy the test made her feel slightly queasy. Buying it meant acknowledging that this might be real, and held the potential for disappointment. She didn't want to start thinking about having a baby, having a child again, when she might very well not be pregnant and her last chance might have passed long ago. She didn't want to start thinking "I should have done this sooner", "what if I had…", "what if we had…", "I wish I hadn't…".

And what if she was pregnant? If she was, it was about the last thing she had expected to happen at this point in time. It was something she wasn't prepared for right now, and she wasn't sure what that might mean for their volatile relationship. With the stress of the past year and her recent promotion, it wasn't a perfect time, but it was the last possible time. It would truly be a second chance, and after all, she was overall more "settled" now than she had been at any other point in her life. So in that sense, it was the perfect time. Really, if she was pregnant, the path was clearer: She would do anything she could to keep up the pregnancy, and she would love this child, no matter what happened or didn't happen with Brian, no matter what it meant in terms of work.

But, she reminded herself, it was unlikely that she was pregnant. With her luck, it was more likely to be some health issue or…no, it couldn't be that. It was almost embarrassing that she had let herself dream for a moment. She didn't want to start that again. She had yearned for a child for many years, too late in her life really, never at the right time, never with the right man. She had wanted to be a mother, and this sense of incompleteness had nagged at her. Being turned down for adoption had been the final straw, and the injustice of those many unwanted children in the world, or mistreated children, and the fact that she still wasn't good enough to be a mother as defined by her absence of family, her absence of a man, had been painful. Then, she had looked after Calvin, and lost Calvin again. It was years of unhappiness, not permanent unhappiness, but years of a sense that something was missing, that she couldn't be something, that she would never have a family or belong anywhere. She didn't want to enter into that again, not when she had finally gotten past it.

At some point past 40, it had become inevitably clear that she would never have a child of her own. And, more or less, she had begun to accept that. It was just the way things were. She had put a lot of energy into building a life for herself, doing nice things for herself, spending her money on herself. She had started dating again, taking time off work, making friends, going on vacations. She had fallen in love with David and, in spite of how it ended, she didn't regret it. She had gotten over Elliot's departure, not just from work but basically from her life. She had tried to reconnect with her brother, the only family that remained. There were other goals she had, like learning another foreign language, becoming a better cook. She had put nearly all her energy into work for years and realized that although she would never have a child of her own, she would have helped a great many. And now, there was Brian and their new apartment, and she had been looking forward to a new phase in a life, perhaps a phase consisting of commitment and newfound freedom. It was a good life, all things considered.

So why was she sitting here googling pregnancy information and making herself miserable? She should just go out, pick up the test and get it over with. Whatever the result was, she would be fine. No one would ever know, and nothing would be any different afterwards.

She was about to grab her things and go out to the pharmacy, when she heard the keys turning in the lock. Wow, he was home early. She quickly wiped the search history and closed the browser window.

"Hey, it's just me" he called.

"Hey." She shut down the computer and walked over to the foyer.

"You're home early" he commented, hanging up his jacket.

She leaned against the door frame. "Yeah. Just needed some time away from there."

"Bad day?"

She shrugged. "The usual trouble with going from peer to boss."

"Let me guess – Amaro again?" Even though Brian had done his best to be civil to him or, at the very least, avoid him while he'd been staying with them, it looked like the two of them would never get past their bad start.

"No. Rollins. She's been having some issues. I've tried being helpful, tried telling her off, but no change. Obviously, the others are covering for her, even Fin."

He smiled. "It's not like you haven't done that before."

"I know, but I've never been on the other side of it" she replied, annoyed.

"You'll figure it out." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and put his arm around her, moving into the main room. She couldn't very well go and get the test now. She'd have to get it on the way to work tomorrow and do it there.

"I wish I knew what the Captain would have done."

"Cragen? He sort of had a way of making you see the right thing to do yourself. He'd show you and guilt trip you into doing it." Not a nice way of putting it, but pretty accurate. "Now Munch on the other hand, he'd leave it totally up to you but scare you shitless with horror scenarios."

"And me? I talk to her over and over again, but she doesn't see how serious the situation is."She leaned against the kitchen counter, running one hand through her hair.

"That's because you want to save people" he observed while opening the fridge.

"Everyone wants to protect their people."

"Not like you."He took out some zucchini and peppers, and rummaged through the cupboards for a cutting board.

"I guess sometimes, no matter what you do, you end up doing wrong by someone. If I take her off duty now, that could make the problem worse. If I ignore the problem and give her more time to fix it by herself, I could be putting people at risk."

"Tough choice." He stopped washing the vegetables for a moment, turning off the tap to listen to her. "So what are you going to do?"

"What I have to do. Give her a choice between fixing the problem off the record, or it's going on the record. There's really nothing else I can do." Even though she had brought it up herself, she was tired of discussing the subject. There were too many people's interests to balance at work, as well as that horrific case, and she couldn't stop thinking about the pregnancy test anyway. She suddenly felt exhausted.

"Hey. Cragen knew you could do this. He saw that. And Cragen was hardly ever wrong about anything."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Thanks for the pep talk."

He turned back to the fridge. "You want a beer?"

"No, thanks."

"You all right?"

"Yeah, just tired. And trying to cut back a little." That part was actually half true. She had been drinking too much lately, and misusing it as her only way of unwinding. She didn't want to end up like her mother.

"All right. You mind if I…?"

"No, go ahead. Actually, I have an errand to run, but I'll be quick. You mind starting dinner without me?"

"No. Go."


	6. Shattering

Baby Doe. That's what she had been forced to record the child they had discovered as. Just that, no name, no identity, something discarded. She couldn't understand how it was possible that this baby was simply not wanted. Cognitively, perhaps, but she couldn't really comprehend it. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly at the moment, that her judgment was clouded by her own situation, but after everything, after finding Nicky alive and getting those girls out of there, after what should have been a "happy ending" as far as happy endings were possible in their department, it was this simple fact that stuck with her.

To be fair, it hadn't really been a surprise when her own test was negative. The chance had always been a slim one, and she hadn't been expecting anything. It wasn't like she had been planning and trying to have a baby. This didn't change a thing. It only meant that her life was still on course, her career on track and her finances in order with nothing to rattle the peace she was still struggling so hard to figure out. It wouldn't have been a good time, anyway, after everything. Except that she had, against her will, been picturing herself with a child, or all three of them as a family, wondering where it would sleep, wondering what kind of father Brian would be, if she could do it, if it would be a boy or a girl. She had gotten used to the idea of this miracle baby and family, as unlikely and brief as it had been. Now, the reality that this was never going to happen, along with the finality of it all, the fact that this was the last pregnancy test she would ever take, hit her more strongly than expected. She was no longer a woman who could do that. This was one thing she had not achieved in her life.

So she had curled up on the couch, crying and scaring poor Brian who had walked in on the scene after his morning run without a clue what was wrong. He was used to her withdrawing from him when she was upset, or yelling at him at the most, not bursting into tears in front of him. She hadn't wanted to let herself fall apart like that, but it had been a long night spent at the precinct sorting out the paperwork and PR stuff to close the case and, instead of going home and straight to sleep for a few hours before returning to work, she had simply pulled another all-nighter. And spent the entire way home trying to hold it together. The grey of dawn had crept up outside by the time she got home, and she had been unable to stop thinking about Nicky, the girls, Alexa, Baby Doe.

Brian brought her a cup of tea, which was sweet since she hadn't asked him to do that, and sat down next to her, stroking her hair. "You want me to call in sick for you?"

"No."

"Want me to call Dr. Lindstrom?"

"No. Thanks." She would call him herself later. "Just…give me a minute. I'm okay."

"Okay" he said, sounding doubtful but dropping it.

She sat up a little, wiping the tears from her face and trying to take deep, calming breaths. He put his arm up on the back rest of the sofa, subtly offering support if she wanted it. She leaned back against his shoulder, pulling her knees up to her chest. He lightly kissed her forehead and stayed still, not saying anything but simply waiting. She was glad he didn't feel a need to press the issue. Brian had acquired the rare gift of being able to just sit with someone, offering support without having to know what was wrong or making it go away. In any case, after how he'd reacted to even the slightest possibility of a pregnancy, he was the last person she wanted to discuss this with.

"Don't you need to get ready for work?" she finally asked.

"Not right now" he said, stroking her hair. "But you should try and sleep a little."

"Can't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"If it's work-"

"It's not work. Not entirely."

"Oh." That seemed to scare him more, she observed as she felt his upper body muscles tense. He probably assumed it was about Lewis.

A couple more tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them away angrily. She hated that even this could be tainted by Lewis going through her mind, even this completely different issue, that everything good or bad that happened in her life seemed to be intertwined with her assailant. "I just realized today that there's something we will never have." And the difference between them was, he didn't want it.

"What?" he asked hesitantly. He had to know what she was getting at.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter now." She couldn't get out the words.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, kissing her forehead again. She didn't know how much of what had transpired he grasped, but for this moment alone, he seemed to share her sadness.

They sat in silence for a moment, and she picked up her tea and forced herself to drink a little. It was that soothing bedtime tea she had once bought in the hope of avoiding sleeping pills. The hotness of the beverage felt good in her throat, and she finally noticed a great fatigue washing over her. Placebo effect. "I think I'm going to try and catch a bit of sleep." She got up slowly from the sofa. "You should grab that shower and get to work."

He looked up at her uncertainly.

"Go" she repeated, walking away towards the bedroom.

"I'll call you later, okay?"

"You don't need-"

"I'll call. Oh, and Liv, before I forget-"

She turned around again, hoping he wasn't going to say anything important because she wasn't able to take in any more.

"-I know this isn't a good time and we can totally talk about it later-"

"Just get to the point."

"My sister called yesterday. I meant to tell you, but- anyway, we talked, and she'd love to meet you. If that's okay. She invited us over for dinner next week."

A sister. She racked her brains for what she knew about his family. He was a bit of a momma's boy. There was one older sister, but not by much. He had mentioned going to visit her and the kids –kids, yes, there were kids- once, but that had been a while ago, before they had moved in together. "That's nice of her" she managed, surprised. At any other time, she might have reacted with more joy.

"Yeah. But if it isn't a good time, then we can postpone." She could tell from his hopeful expression that he didn't want to postpone.

"No, accept."


	7. Family

"That smells delicious" she commented. "What is it?"

"Chicken with a honey mustard glaze, couscous and salad. I hope you're not vegetarian – Brian didn't say." Jessica threw a reprimanding glance her brother's way.

"I'm not, and that looks wonderful."

"Yeah" Brian agreed, taking the salad bowl from his sister's hands and setting it down on the table. "Thanks for the invitation."

"Mmmh, yummy!" Nathaniel exclaimed. The seven-year-old had been wriggling around on his chair impatiently, unable to sit still.

His mother was quick to give him the task of getting serving utensils, while asking her daughter to go fetch a jar of water and some juice. While the little boy rushed to do his task, his big sister rolled her eyes and moved sluggishly.

"You're sure I can't help you with anything?" Olivia asked again, feeling slightly uncomfortable with being served like that.

"Oh no, it's all ready." Jessica brought in the oven dish and set it down in front of them. "Careful, it's hot."

They sat down to eat at the table, which had been beautifully set. Olivia was moved by the effort Brian's sister was clearly making to impress them. She hadn't really sat down for dinner at a "family table" in ages, not since that time years ago when Kathy Stabler had invited her over. Eli had been a toddler then, and she remembered how nice it had been to be around so many kids of various ages, to see Elliot in his home environment, but how hollow it had made her feel when she had gone home alone. But this was different. This was her boyfriend's only family, whom he had wanted her to meet, and they wanted her to feel welcome. It wasn't a reminder of what she couldn't have, but a hope of what she might have.

The second they had sat down, Nathaniel had immediately begun questioning his uncle about his police work – whether he'd ever been in a car chase, if cars really did explode when they crashed, if they drove around with sirens all the time, if all the cars really had to get out of the way when he raced past, if he'd ever been in a gun fight, if he'd ever been shot – at this, his mother visibly winced and told the boy to let his uncle eat.

Meanwhile, Reah, the teenager sitting across from Olivia, kept checking her cell phone under the table, despite reprimands from her mother. She had barely said a word to them so far, although she had clearly been happy to see them, running down the stairs and hugging Brian when they had arrived. She looked a lot like a younger, taller, more fashionable version of her mother, with long, straightened red hair, the kind of overdone make-up that only girls her age could get away with and freckles she had tried to cover up. Her brother was the exact opposite, a head of dark curls he refused to let his mother cut falling into his dark eyes. Olivia could see a certain family resemblance in Brian and Jessica, who were both naturally tall and skinny, with deep-set, clear eyes and a pronounced chin. However, Jessica had long, thick red hair with a tiny streak of grey at the front, and a different smile from his. She was soft-spoken and forward at the same time, despite her slight nervousness. Olivia had taken an instant liking to her.

As Brian began entertaining the kids with exciting police stories, Jessica turned to her. "So Brian told me that you actually used to work together a long time ago, and that you didn't see each other for, what, 12 years? And then met again through a case."

"Yeah, something like that." She smiled at the memory. "We're lucky."

"That's wonderful. You know, he's never brought anyone over. Never. The kids were so excited. I wish we could see him more often, but I guess it's hard with his work- your work."

"Unfortunately, that's true. But we'd still be happy to have you over sometime. I know it takes an hour to get into the city from here, but the subway goes straight through."

Jessica beamed at her. "I'd love that. You know, I can't quite believe he's living with a woman. Does he still have that awful old leather couch, the one with the holes he taped over?"

She laughed. Her first acquaintance with the piece of furniture had left her less than impressed. "No, we got rid of that, thankfully. He was pretty good about it. But have you seen his cattle skull?"

"Oh dear…well, at least you took all the important pieces."

"You have a cattle skull, Brian?" This finally piqued Reah's interest and prompted her to put her cell phone away. She had used to call him "Uncle Brian", her mother said, but apparently, that wasn't cool anymore.

"Uh, yeah." He pointed his fork at her. "Don't make fun of Bruce."

"Bruce?!" The kids burst out laughing.

"He's from a trip I took with some friends years ago, okay? There's a story behind it."

"Of course there is" Olivia agreed with grave seriousness, participating in the teasing.

"Hey, I've always thought he adds a personal touch to our apartment."He reached for her hand under the table.

"You live together?" Nathaniel inquired, looking back and forth between them curiously.

"Yes."

"Are you gonna get married?"

Olivia nearly choked on her sip of water, coughing. Brian's face turned bright red. Reah grinned at her little brother's forward question.

"Nat!" his mother exclaimed. "It's rude to be so curious. That's private."

"Sorry. Are you, though? Can I do something in the wedding?" This interrogation was not heading into a good direction.

"Asking that is even ruder" Jessica scolded.

"It's all right" Brian finally managed. "Uh, we have no plans right now."

"So that's a no?" Reah asked.

"No" he replied quickly, with a side glance at Olivia. She nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, and didn't pull her hand away. "I mean, it's not a no." He looked at his sister helplessly.

"That's enough questions about that" she said firmly.

"Fine" Nathaniel mumbled, trying to stab a tomato in his salad.

"So, Reah" Brian turned to his niece, trying to change the subject. "Last time I saw you, you were in the eighth grade. How's high school?"

"Good" she answered.

"You like your teachers?"

"Some."

"And you made new friends?"

"Yeah."

_Smooth change of subject. _Olivia could barely hide her amusement at his attempt to extract information out of a teenage girl. "You're a freshman, right? I remember when I was a freshman, all the girls in my class wanted to be cheerleaders, although we didn't even have any good sports teams at my school."

Reah grimaced. "I hate cheerleaders."

"She's on the basketball team, though" her mother helpfully offered some information. "They've been winning a number of games."

"Really? That's awesome."

"I'm only JV."

"Still cool" Brian said. "I played basketball in high school, but I wasn't any good. You ever been to a real game?"

"Yeah" her face lit up. "Once, with Dad. The Knicks were playing, but they lost."

"They've been doing a lot of that lately" Olivia replied.

"Nuh-uh, Rickie says they're gonna have a winning streak this year." Nathaniel corrected her.

"Let's hope he's right."

The boy's expression turned dreamy. "We were sitting at the very back, and there were hot dogs and foam fingers and popcorn, but Dad brought a spyglass-"

"He brought binoculars, stupid" Reah interjected roughly, clearly upset by the memory.

"Same thing!"

"Who cares about the food there was? You weren't even watching the game."

"Yeah, well, you only play JV, what do you know about it!"

"Guys…" Jessica sighed. "Stop it."

"Can we go to another game this year, Mom?" Nathaniel asked hopefully.

She shrugged evasively. "I don't know that we can get tickets."

"Maybe I could-" Brian started, but stopped when his sister gave him a warning look. Still, Olivia had registered as much as him that they had been presented with an opportunity to do something nice for the family.

"Maybe" the boy repeated to himself, and resumed cutting his chicken.

"Maybe means no" his sister elaborated. "Tickets are expensive."

"Hey, guys, maybe we could all get along for one night while Uncle Brian and Olivia are here" Jessica suggested, offering them more food.

"Thank you, it tastes great, but I'm full" she declined with a smile. It really had tasted amazing and she hadn't felt so full in a while.

"Well, I hope you left room for dessert."

"Mom made cherry cobbler." Nathanial explained.

"I believe there's always room for cherry cobbler." She smiled at the boy, who had resumed digging into his food while his sister preferred to push hers back and forth on the plate. "You know, Jessica, I've been wondering if you could tell me a little about what Brian was like as a child." She couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer, and this was a relatively safe subject.

"Oh" she laughed. "He was a clown. Always playing pranks on people –never anything serious, really- but he drove our parents crazy."

"Don't exaggerate" Brian interrupted.

"Am I? Remember the neighbours' letter boxes?"

"What about them?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'm not giving you ideas. Well, he wasn't great in school, but he did his best. The girls loved him. Teachers loved him. He was a lot of fun, even though he sometimes got picked on."

"I can imagine that" she said, thinking of what Brian had been like years ago, when he'd been the newbie of the precinct.

"There was that time when he only wore one T-shirt to school every single day."

"Ew, gross!" Reah exclaimed.

"Kind of." he admitted. "But it was my The Clash T-shirt."

"London calling to the faraway towns…" Jessica sang in a fake British accent.

"Weird generation." Reah shook her head, looking from one sibling to the other with so much serious wisdom that it provoked all around laughter from the adults at the table. "Hey, what was Mom like as a kid?"

"Your mom? Aw, well" he looked at his sister thoughtfully. "She was good. Real good, a great big sister. She covered for me with our parents, kept me out of trouble. She was smart in school, not like me but real book smart. Even though she spent half her time with these long-haired rocker guys." She had a feeling they were getting the sanitized version here.

Her daughter's jaw dropped. "Mom, really? Who would have thought."

"Believe it or not, honey, I was once young."

"Did you always want to be a cop, Uncle Brian? Even in school?" Nathaniel asked, still gazing at his uncle in admiration as he had been doing all evening. Olivia was only beginning to realize how important having a male role model seemed to be in this child's life. He needed to see his niece and nephew more often.

"Not always. But I wanted to help people, and the fire department wouldn't take me."

"I want to be a cop when I grow up."

Brian smiled. "You have plenty of time to think about that."

"And you're a cop, too?" he asked Olivia.

"Yes, I am."

"Do lady cops have guns, too?"

"Uh, yeah, we do" she said, slightly bewildered at the awkward question. "But just like male police officers, we don't carry them around with us all the time, because that wouldn't be safe. You know, we don't want anyone getting hurt. We only use guns as a last resort."

"Some of the best police officers are women" Brian added. "Like Olivia, she's the boss of her department."

The boy frowned. "Dad says some jobs are only for men, that women aren't supposed to take them away."

Olivia watched Jessica and Brian visibly stiffen at the comment, and she tried hard to think of a response that wouldn't agree with the misogynistic comment, but wouldn't put down Nathaniel's father, either.

It was Reah who broke the awkward pause. "Dad said a lot of dumb crap."

"Don't talk about Dad like that!"

"Don't repeat everything he said like a stupid parrot!"

Nathaniel jumped up from his chair, trying to hit his sister's arm, but she pulled away in time. "You're the one who's stupid! I hate you!" He ran out of the room, and they could hear him sobbing as he ran up the stairs.

"Was that really necessary?" Jessica asked her daughter angrily, getting up from the table. "Excuse me…" She went after her son, leaving the three of them to sit in front of their empty or half-empty plates.

Reah deliberately began picking up some couscous she had been neglecting and eating it. "Delicious."

"What was that all about?" her uncle asked. "Are you mad at Nat?"

"Nope." She shrugged. "He just misses Dad."

"I think that's understandable" Olivia said sympathetically.

Brian looked at his niece, concerned. "What about you? Don't you miss him?"

"No. Dad's a jerk. Let him stay with his sk- his 'girlfriend'." She indicated some air quotes around the word. "See if I care."

"And he hasn't called at all?"

"No. Oh well. Mom's right, we're better off without him."

Olivia got the feeling that the teenager had been pulled into too much of that conflict as it was. "Are you doing okay though?"

"Fine" she shrugged carelessly, glancing down at her cell phone again. "Hey, sorry, but I promised a friend I'd call her back earlier. Is that okay? It'll literally take two seconds max."

"Sure" Brian agreed. They had finished eating anyway.

"Poor kids" Olivia remarked as Reah left the room.

"Yeah" he sighed. "I mean it's been a long time coming, but still."

"Come on, let's start clearing away the plates. I don't think they'll want to eat more when they return, anyway."

They started cleaning up and by the time both kids and their mother had returned for dessert, the mood had lifted somewhat, aided by the best cherry cobbler Olivia had eaten in her life. The kids began to warm to Olivia, and were even moderately pleasant to each other. Jessica gave them a tour of the house, and Nathaniel insisted on showing them all his favourite toys, refusing to go to bed until Brian sat down with him and only him to tell him one last police story. This gave the two women a chance to talk, while Reah retreated to her own room. At the end of the night, Jessica made them promise to return soon, while Brian insisted that she call them if she needed anything.

When the door closed behind them, Brian put his arm around Olivia's shoulders, and she wrapped hers back around his waist. The night air was freezing around them, and she could see the clouds their breaths made. "So, what do you think? Good night?"

"Great night. That was so sweet of her. You have a really nice family."

"Yeah, Jess is great, and she really likes you. I should call her more often."

"You should! Those kids adore you."

"I think they adore my gun more than me."

"Hm-mh."

"Sorry if it was a little…messy. Things haven't been the same since John took off."

"You think messy scares me? They were wonderful, it was a perfect night." She looked at his face. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For this." For introducing her to his family like it was no big deal, when it clearly was, for making time tonight, for being so sweet with these kids. Somehow, she felt like seeing him around his family had made her love him just a little more.

"Oh. Well, it's family. And you're family" he said casually. "Listen, about what I said before, when Nat kept asking-"

"It's fine. We're good where we are."

"But I don't want you to think that we…what I meant by 'no' is that right now-"

"Don't." She put her finger to his lips to silence him. "It's all good."

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and they resumed their walk.

"Hey, did you notice that your phone didn't ring once tonight? That's new."

"I think that might have something to do with Nick. I told him where we were going tonight, and he was very quick to tell me that everything would be fine, that I would not be needed under any circumstances, that it was really 'just a quiet weekday night'. I hope the place still stands tomorrow."

"You'll just have to trust him."


	8. Running

They were just going over the crime scenes photos on Fin's tablet together, when her cell phone rang once again. She didn't recognize the number on the display, but answered anyway. "Hello?" She held up her forefinger, mouthing "one second" to Fin to ask him to wait.

"Olivia, hi, it's Jordan Lamar, from Brian's office."

Brian's partner? She tried to picture his face, her mind still half on the gruesome images in front of her, but from their one brief encounter, it was hard to recall. All she remembered was that Brian liked him. "Hi, Jordan."

"Listen, have you heard from Brian recently?"

Her attention immediately shifted to the phone call. "No. Should I have heard from him?" Where had he found out her cell phone number, anyway? Where, but his file under "emergency contact"?

"I don't know. I was just wondering."

Her heart immediately sank to her stomach. Brian had been away undercover for days again, which wasn't that unusual. Their regular arrangement was that he didn't tell her anything about where he was going, and that they wouldn't have any contact unless he called her, which was generally only to check in and say that everything was fine, or to tell her he was coming home. He hadn't called. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about yet" the younger detective said in that calming voice reserved for civilians, which made her worry more.

"You've lost contact?"

"Basically."

"How long ago?"

"It's possible that it just wasn't safe to make con-"

"When did you last speak to him?"

There was a pause at the other end, clearly so Jordan could make a decision on how much to tell her. He went for honesty. "Yesterday morning. We were supposed to be done with the operation by today, but he hasn't checked in and now we've lost track of him."

She clutched her phone, trying to contain her anger. "How can you lose track of your people? Back-up is the essence of undercover."

"Last time we talked, he said he'd stop wearing his wire, that it was too dangerous."

_Shit, Brian. _How did he always end up with the worst jobs, in situations like this one? "And you had no back-up plan for pulling him out?!"

"He hasn't been in touch."

"Where was he? What was the operation?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Jordan, if I give you the order to divulge information, it's my call, not yours. I'll be responsible for it." Abusing her seniority in front of witnesses in an area where she had no actual power, very smart. But this was more important.

He hesitated. "I'm sorry, Sergeant. I can't say more." Clearly. The fact that he was calling her on her cell, rather than making an official visit asking official questions, said it all. "Try Tucker."

There was a useless suggestion. "Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Uh, not right now, I'm going over our next steps. I'll find him, okay?"

"Can-"

"I gotta go now. Sorry. I'll keep you posted. If he makes contact, can you just keep him calm and find out where he is?"

"Yes." She was irritated that he felt a need remind her of that. Something about this conversation was very odd. She tried to listen closely, in case Jordan was trying to tell her something.

"Thanks. Talk to you soon."

"Bye." She touched the disconnect symbol and stared at her phone for a moment, trying to figure out her options.

"Trouble?" Fin, who had been standing in front of her the whole time, asked.

"Yes. Brian. Don't know what kind of trouble yet."

"They lose track of him?"

"Yep."

"Need me to look into anything?" His tone was casual, and she knew that if she needed anyone's inofficial help on this, Fin would be the guy who would ask no questions, do it and keep quiet.

"No, thanks." She wasn't going to pull him into this just yet, not before knowing what it actually was.

"Okay."

"Uh, just go ahead with that" she gestured at the crime scene photos, "it sounds like you're right about the connection between the rapes."

She walked straight through the squad room to Cragen's- to the Captain's office. It wasn't in use at the moment, but she frequently had to go in there to look things up. Cragen had been a fan of printing out his files, rather than keeping a digital copy only. She closed the door behind her and immediately speed dialed the number.

One beep. Two beeps. _Pick up!_ Three beeps. He had to know that something was wrong if she was trying to reach him. Four beeps. Her mind went into crisis management mode, forestalling all emotion. There were four options: He didn't want to pick up (Because he was busy? Because he didn't want to talk to anyone?), he didn't have his phone on him, he was with people and couldn't be overheard talking to her, and he couldn't pick up (Because he was in trouble? Because his cover had been blown?). The call went to his mailbox. She didn't leave a message; there was no need, he would see the call had come from her, anyway, and who knew who might be listening at the other end?

She considered her options. There was no one she knew at IA who would divulge any more information. She lacked the access rights and skill to get into their computer system. Had Brian dropped a hint, said anything at all about this operation? The last thing he had been working on before had been something to do with drugs; he had made a comment the other night regarding how his time with Narcotics was coming in handy. It made sense to put him on a drug case. Drug cases and IA were a high risk scenario, although, she reminded herself, he had plenty of experience and knew how to stay safe. Could she get in touch with Barba and gently probe him for information on current operations? No, despite the somewhat guilty way he'd been acting with her and his general respect for her, he was far too professional to tell her anything that wasn't in her domain.

Her phone rang again, and she nearly threw it down trying to pry it out of her pocket quickly. Unknown number – a landline. "Hello?"

"Liv?"

A tremendous relief washed over her at the sound of his voice. "Brian? Where are you?!" So much for staying calm.

"They asked you about me, didn't they?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes. What's going on?"

"I…I can't go back." He coughed, turning away from the phone from the sound of it. Why was he calling from this number? A payphone, she realized, visualizing the digits she had seen on the display.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Are you in any immediate danger?"

"No."

She checked the two points off her mental list, although it had taken him slightly longer to answer the second question. "Do you need back-up?" She already knew the answer. If he had wanted back-up, he would have contacted his unit. So why was he phoning her?

"No."

"Where are you?" she tried again.

The only reply she got was a shaky intake of breath at the other end of the line.

This was getting scary. She tried to concentrate on any background sounds. There was traffic around him, but nothing else. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"No. I…sorry…shit…I blew it. I messed up." He sounded like he was going into shock.

She needed to keep him talking now if she was hoping to extract any information. "Messed up how?"

"I couldn't do anything. I blew my cover…I think…I can't go back…"

"Brian" She hoped using his name would help him focus. "You don't have to go back, okay? But your unit's worried, they've been trying to get in touch with-"

"I know. I can't…I don't know…"

What if he had actually done something terrible, harmed someone enough to get in trouble? Then that would be something to deal with when she found him, she decided. Right now, what had taken place didn't matter and he clearly wasn't going to tell her, anyway. If only the computer were up and running right now, so she could simultaneously run the number through the system. Payphones were the easiest to locate, but she didn't want people overhearing their conversation outside. "Okay. Then I'll come meet you, only me. Just tell me where."

"I-" "One minute remaining" a mechanical voice interrupted. "-come home."

"You're coming home? All right." Unless he had actually done something bad, in which case coming home wasn't making things easier at all…


	9. Screwed

She had been waiting at their apartment for over an hour after prying herself away from work by the time he finally arrived. It had been a frustrating hour of trying to prepare for the unknown, going over legal options and considering whether to inform IA or not, and what to tell them if they did decide to ask her again. They were on thin ice here.

When she finally rushed to the door, she really didn't know what to expect. What she got was a mess of a man, pale and sweaty, with dirt on his shirt and a tear around the left shoulder. "Damn it, you need a doctor!"

"No! No."

She tried to assess any visible signs of injury: He was walking unsteadily, but not limping, keeping one hand clutched to his right abdomen. There was no blood on his clothes, she noticed with relief, but his knuckles were cracked and she could see a laceration above his left eye and some swelling around the upper cheek area, as well as several lighter grazes. Signs of blunt force trauma, she concluded, forcing herself to remain detached in her observations, but not of the severity of an accident or beating intended to injure or kill.

She led him over to a chair. "Here, sit down."

"I'm okay" he mumbled as she went to grab the first aid kit she had prepared and an ice pack from the freezer.

"Did you receive a blow to the head?"

"A couple of punches but…nothing serious." He was answering her questions clearly and seemed more collected than earlier. Good.

She sat down in a chair facing him and handed him the ice pack, wrapped in a dishcloth. "Here."

He pressed it to his cheek. His eyes showed no signs of being bloodshot and his pupils were of normal, equal sizes. His breathing seemed even to her. She began to disinfect the laceration above his eye as gently as possible, but he still flinched away from the sting. "Sorry." It didn't look like it needed stitches.

Only now, sitting so close she had to spread her knees, did she notice the smell of alcohol on his breath. "Have you been drinking?"

"Only one drink…after…"

"You thought it was a good idea to call me, then walk into a bar and drink before coming home?" she exclaimed, more concerned than angry. She knew he sometimes made rash decisions, but this was insensible even for him, both on the grounds of his physical condition and mental state, as well as the next steps he needed to take.

"Needed to clear my head."

She suspected that the alcohol had done little to help his state of mind, other than calming his nerves a little, but kept that to herself. This wasn't the time for reproaches, and it was his resignation, his letting her take charge like this, that worried her the most right now. "What from?"

He remained silent, then touched her wrist, stalling her movements. "Please stop."

She lowered her hand from his face, giving him some space. "Whatever it is" she said quietly. "We'll figure it out." She wasn't actually sure of that last part at all, but it was all the reassurance she had.

"Nothing to figure out. I'm screwed. Again."

"What happened? The operation went wrong?"

He exhaled heavily. "It wasn't supposed to be a big operation in the first place. Just some uniforms, rookies who were suspected of doing a little business on the side – impounding, confiscating drugs and reselling, that sort of thing. Anyway, things happened and, turns out, they're not just some kids trying to make extra cash by ripping off small time dealers. They're actually in with some of the biggest scum in the city, and they got a kind of network of their sort that turns a blind eye as long as they get their share of the profits. I mean, really, I shouldn't have been surprised" he laughed bitterly. "I told IA that I couldn't go there, that some of these guys already knew me from my time with Ganzel. I told White, I told Tucker, but they said that I was getting close. I wasn't, really, they didn't trust me anyway. It would have taken years to get there. Another few years of UC on this case, there's a prospect… No, they let me stand outside at most while they did their business."He winced, holding his side.

"Let me…?" She untucked his shirt and pulled it up carefully, revealing a large, dark bruise on the side of his stomach. "Ouch. Punch or kick?"

"Punch."

"We should really get you checked out." She touched his good hand, and he curled his fingers around hers.

"Not now."

"What happened next?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing while he was opening up to her.

"They went to meet a dealer, a pimp down by the docks, you know, where the…the really young ones are." Child prostitutes. "I was supposed to wait in the car, just wait for them to return. I wasn't gonna collect evidence that way, but anyway, I stayed in the area, just walking around. And I walked and…and I found her. She was just lying there, beside the garbage bags, _in _the garbage. She was completely out of it. The last john, he'd- he'd not even bothered to cover her up again. She was just naked from the waist down. Or maybe it wasn't a john at all, maybe it was just some random guy who walked by and took what he wanted, who knows. Her legs were…blue from the cold. There were injection marks everywhere. I could see that two of her front teeth were missing. And she was just lying there, you know, in the garbage…" He broke off. His voice had been flat, devoid of any feeling up to this point.

She circled her thumb across his fingers lightly, doing nothing to interrupt the pause.

"Even though she weighed, like, 80 pounds now, I could tell that it was Dominique."

"Who's Dominique?" she asked, when he didn't offer an explanation.

He seemed lost in his own world, staring off into space.

"Bri? Who's Dominique?"

"A girl I knew from UC. I met her three, four years ago –not via Ganzel, he didn't do underage girls, too risky- through one of his girls, Jasmine. She was 14 then, and she'd been in this country since she was 11, doing the work since she was 12. We talked; her English was real good; she was from Haiti. Nice girl, rough time though. I tried to do what I could without being obvious, got her a place in a shelter. Told myself she'd made it." He shook his head. "Stupid, really."

"So what happened then?"

"I couldn't leave her there. I guess I could have phoned an ambulance and taken off, and left it at that, but I couldn't. She barely had a pulse. I called an ambulance, and…I covered her up with my jacket, and I waited. And it took…I don't know how long it took, but it- it was too long. I heard the sirens, but I stayed. Too late. And she was cold." He couldn't go on, staring blankly ahead.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, containing her own emotions. She had seen many young girls die this way, and she knew Brian could hardly be new to it from his work in Narcotics, but she could sense that this was different. There had been a connection with the victim here. That always made it hard.

"And she might still have family, back in Haiti, you know, and now they'll never know. She's just an anonymous body."

She could have said "maybe they'll find a way of reaching them", but she would have been lying and Brian was the last person to buy into it. There was no comfort to offer at this point. "You tried to help her."

"Yeah, well, a great load of good that did. You know what the saddest part is? Back then, they were always telling me to back off, to stop 'risking the operation', and even now, they'd probably tell me we're working for a 'larger goal' here, that catching these guys will be worth it." His apathy was making way for anger now. "But there's always more, more corrupt cops, more drugs, more vics. It's pointless. And at some point, you're not a good guy posing as a bad guy anymore, you're just as bad."

"No" she replied firmly. "The difference is that you tried to help her. You did the right thing. You couldn't have just left her there, that would have been a failure of duty."

"Doesn't matter. She died, and I blew the operation."

"What happened when the unis got back?"

"They were pissed. I tried to pass it off as a weak moment of sorts, told them some soppy story about a dead ex, but yeah, someone who gets upset over the customers isn't really a credible drug dealer. I was lucky that they only wanted to rough me up a little, but I'm sure they're trying to come up with a plan right now on how to shut me up for good. So I bailed, without waiting for orders." He lowered the ice pack from his face.

"Good thing you did. You had no choice. Why didn't you call someone though?"

"I don't know." He looked at her apologetically, and she believed him that he really couldn't think right now, that he had been reacting on instinct alone. But it was important that he got his story straight, and fast. It wasn't like him to lose his nerve like that, not after everything he had been through undercover. "I just wanted to get out of there. They're going to ask questions."

"Yeah, they are. Look, we don't have a lot of time. You know you have to check in with them. Obviously, I can't tell you what to say, but don't do their job for them. Don't poke holes into your own story." The part that worried her wasn't what he had done –she was relieved that he hadn't actually hurt anyone, and had gotten out of there safely- but the fact that he wasn't good with this sort of thing at the best of times, and right now, he was feeling guilty over the dead girl. They would have an easy time with him.

"I have to tell the truth."

"Yes. But you didn't do anything wrong" she insisted. "You tried to save a civilian's life, endangering your own. Your cover was at risk, so you made a judgement call and pulled out in time. You got hurt –you need to file a report on that- and that's why you didn't make contact right away. That's all."

"That's all" he echoed.


	10. Justifying

"I'm sorry!" she shouted, hurrying up the stairs. "Got held up at work. I meant to be here twenty minutes ago."

He had been leaning against the railing despite the cold wind, lost in thought. "It's fine."

"No, it's not" she panted. She had promised to meet him after his hearing. "How did it go?"

"No demotion" he told her, cutting to the chase. "I was lucky."

"That's great!" She was relieved to hear it. Another demotion would have hit him hard, and ended his career for good. "And only right."She took his hand and they started to descend down the stairs slowly.

"Yeah, fair" he agreed, not looking happy at all. "They told me to take some time off though, and I'll be on desk duty for a while."

It was the lesser evil, the smallest measure they could take, and she understood it more now that she had taken on management duties herself. They had been forced to react in some way, and this was pretty mild all things considered. "You'll get back in the field."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. Remember that psych eval they sprung on me the other day?"

"Yeah."

"I failed it."

"What do you mean?"

"The only reason they went soft on me is because they're convinced I was out of my mind. Apparently, I'm too insane to be held responsible."

"What exactly did they say?" "Insane" seemed a tad dramatic. The wind kept blowing her hair into her face, and she pushed it back so she could read his expression.

"Something about role confusion, rash actions under stress, depressive tendencies. They say I lack distance. 'Detective Cassidy has repeatedly demonstrated an insufficient ability to maintain professional boundaries.'"

"What?" An evaluation like that could really hurt his career.

"Yep. After all these operations, that's their conclusion. They send you there, tell you to blend in, tell you to become one of the group, and then they tell you you lack boundaries? Honestly? They create the stress, and then tell you you can't handle it!"

"I don't understand." The reason they kept giving him undercover assignments was that he was good at it. A little too good, perhaps, and yes, there had been that relationship with Carissa, but the weaknesses listed in the evaluation were exactly what made him so effective. He could blend in entirely, without being turned. "This was based on what happened with this case alone?"

"More on the psych check-up, I think. I should have lied in the evaluation. I should have just told them what they wanted to hear."

Yes, probably, but he had been angry and strained after the operation blew up. "Everyone struggles with psych evals. So what now?"

"They'll re-evaluate if I…" He sighed. "If I see a shrink. Doesn't have to be an internal one at least, but still…"

"Oh." She considered her words carefully. "That might not be so bad."

"What are you saying?"

"It might help to talk to someone impartial. Help you cope with the pressure."

"Believe me, the last thing I want is to make it into a problem by talking about it. I'm fine!"

"Well" she stopped, and he let go of her hand, walking ahead. "You have been sort of…bitter about things." She recalled his comments on the pointlessness of his work, the lack of hope about the future. Although she couldn't agree with the negative assessment, she couldn't entirely disagree, either.

He turned around. "Wait a minute, you're on their side?"

"Come on, you know I'm on your side." She hated when he split the world into sides like that. At the same time, she knew that as much as he complained about his undercover work, he wasn't someone who could sit at a desk shuffling paper and making decisions. He needed the risk, the hands-on work, and he saw that being threatened. "That's not the point. But if you have to go see someone anyway, you might as well make use of it."

"Looks like I don't have a choice" he replied, still frustrated.

"There's nothing wrong with getting help." She was a bit disappointed that he, too, clung to the stigma of therapy like that, despite his supportiveness of her own sessions. The prospect of talking to someone about himself almost seemed to scare him. And in a way, it was frightening.

"I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I get it" she said, not wanting to fight about this. "So go there, talk to him or her…and give IA a reason to re-evaluate."

"I'll try."

"Want to go grab dinner somewhere?"

"I can't. I said I'd meet Munch for drinks, remember?"

"Ah, right." She had momentarily forgotten. This was good. She wasn't sure how supportive Munch would be about the whole therapy issue since he tended to see it as a tool of an oppressive system, but John was the right person to rant about the system to, the right person to exchange conspiracy theories with.

"Want to come with? He'd be happy to see you."

"No, do your guy thing." She didn't mind the chance to get some time to herself. Maybe she'd call a friend tonight for a change.


	11. 430 Days

"I say we take a short break in New Haven, and then drive straight through, on to Massachussetts" she suggested, risking a quick glance sideways at the map in Brian's lap.

"Sounds good." She knew he wasn't keen on cities and architecture.

"Did you check the route?"

"What do you mean? It's all the same highway." He could be so annoyingly careless about these things. If it weren't for her, they would still be sitting at home without a plan.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Of course I know."

"Yeah?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Does it look like we're driving into the ocean? Relax. We'll make it to Salem tomorrow."

"Salem? Really?" They had agreed to visit mainly small, less well-known places and avoid tourist hot spots. "Witch trials, old gallows…"

"I promised Nathaniel we'd send him a creepy postcard."

"That kid watches too many scary movies."

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Fine" she sighed. "Witches it is. But we're not staying in one of those themed bed and breakfast places." You had to draw the line somewhere.

He looked down at the map again, tracing the highway with his finger. "No way. But hey, it's too cold to just stare at beaches all the time, anyway."

Typical. She smirked. "You're such a romantic."

They had been driving up the coast for some time now, leaving their city behind for the New England winter. The road trip had been a somewhat spontaneous decision, born out of the situation of him being off duty and both their desperations to just get away for a while. The ground rules were clear: no work talk, no running off to work unless it was an emergency. Although she was still half convinced that the precinct might be falling apart in her absence, and kept checking her phone for new messages, she was also glad to be relieved of the responsibility for a few days. Right now, she could focus on driving and only driving, and she realized how unaccustomed she was to doing it outside the confines of city traffic. The road stretched out long and empty before them, winding around the gorgeous coast of Connecticut. There was something liberating about being in control of the car, away from people, about not being Sergeant Benson for a while. She tended to forget what it felt like to be outside that role when she wasn't on vacation. They were making space for other things, although she wasn't entirely sure what these other things would be.

She was torn out of these thoughts by Brian changing the radio station to his awful, misogynistic hip hop channel. "No." She changed it back.

"We've been listening to your music for hours now!"

"Yeah, well, the driver gets to choose."

"Okay, see the flaw in that logic, you _chose _to drive" he exclaimed, his palms turned upward.

"You chose to be in the passenger seat. All right, pick another station. Any station. Just not that one."

"As you wish." He pressed the button again, and they hit Christian rock. "Perfect!" He nodded his head along to the music and started to fold up the map wrongly.

"Sure" she agreed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He would change it again soon enough when he got sick of it. She hoped. "By the way, how's your stomach?" He had been in some pain on and off again since the day of the fight. The doctor had said it was only the external bruising, and Brian wasn't complaining a lot, but she could see it from the hesitation in his movements, especially when sitting down and getting up again.

"Okay right now. It's getting better." He touched the semi-healed wound above his eyebrow. "One more scar to add to the list."

"A scar can't hurt true beauty" she teased, throwing a brief glance at him.

"Guess that makes me safe."

A random memory popped into her head. "How does it go? 'A scar nobly got is a good livery of honour.' Or something like that."

"What?"

"Shakespeare. I think."

He smiled. "Okay, you get to be the pretty one and the smart one."

She shook her head. It had been way too long since they had done this. When she had actually looked at her timecard to put in for time off work, she had calculated that it had been something like 430 days since their last, their first trip together. The Bahamas seemed a lifetime away now, with everything that had happened over the past year. They had been a getaway to a hot, sunny place with an undefined friend/lover, and a fun getaway at that. This trip along their very own coast, off season and in this weather, was different, but so were they. She wasn't entirely sure what they were now, or where they were headed, but she didn't want to be thinking about that. With David, she had allowed herself to dream of a future. But life had a way of changing things on you, and somehow this casual, comfortable "this is fun right now" thing had turned into her longest relationship in years. They had both been looking for something, settling for the comfort of familiarity and easy flirtation perhaps, at a point in their lives which was beyond requiring something earth shattering and all-consuming.

"You know, the only time I've been to Salem was when my mother took me years- God, decades ago." She remembered everything about that trip with surprising clarity, the stuffy smell of the museum, her mother's embarrassing outburst about the historical inaccuracies in the displays, the red colour of her coat.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd been there before."

"She had a thing for Arthur Miller, my mother."

"That playwright?"

"Yeah." She took a look out Brian's window, where she could see the ocean now, as grey as the sky above. The clouds seemed to be hanging low over it, like heavy cotton, but it was supposed to turn sunny tomorrow. "It actually wasn't such a bad trip – one of the few trips we ever took. She liked her literature."

"Makes sense. She was an English professor, wasn't she?"

"You remember that?" She turned her head reflexively, nearly getting distracted from the road. They hadn't ever discussed her mother's occupation.

"You mentioned it years ago" he pointed out casually.

"In the last millennium…" She was stunned.

"Hey, I listen sometimes."

She focused on the road again, ignoring the burning sensation in her eyes. This was absolutely nothing to get sentimental about, she reprimanded herself. The moment passed.

Brian was leaning against the window with his elbow. "You know, when me and Jess were kids, our mom used to take us to the beach whenever she and Dad were fighting over his affairs, to get away. We didn't really go places other than that, so we were pretty excited about it despite everything."

Apparently, this sharing thing was now mutual. "That must have been hard. The fighting, I mean."

He shrugged. "No, they were good people, all things considered. And Jess taught me how to swim."

"That part sounds nice. I always wanted a sibling."

"I'm sorry" he replied, sounding unsure what to say.

"I mean there is Simon now, but…you know…" It was complicated. Him calling to ask for help, her trying to rescue him – although he had shown some concern after seeing her on the news.

"Took a long time to find him" he completed the thought.

"Yeah, well, still takes a long time." She turned down the volume of the radio absent-mindedly.

"Siblings are complicated."

"Did you keep in touch with Jessica all these years? I mean, when you were UC?"

"On and off. It wasn't easy. Saw her when Dad died two, three years ago and we started talking more after that."

"I'm sorry." She had known that his father had passed away, but she had been unaware that it had been in the last few years.

He shrugged, looking off into the distance. "We weren't that close. And Jess…I…her ex, John, is a pretty big asshole. But she was always protecting him, defending him." He shook his head. "She'd always ask me for help, and then she wouldn't let me help her."

"Maybe she wasn't ready."

"Yeah, either way, he's history now. She didn't even tell me until the other day; I would have checked in on them."

"You checked on them now." Most likely, Jessica hadn't been ready for an "I told you so" from her little brother, either, but she kept that thought to herself. He had a need to protect people from themselves, and this was enough family discussion for her taste.

They drove along in silence for a while, passing another beach surrounded by dunes sparsely covered in grass. It was frostbitten, hard and white around the edges, but there was no sign of snow. Eventually, Brian changed the radio station.


	12. Unwinding

He covered her hand with his, hiding her phone from view. "Stop it. They'll call if there's a problem. I'm sure everything's fine."His eyes were still fixed on the screen above their heads while he was talking to her.

"If I'd known we'd be doing this…" She slipped her phone back into her jeans pocket and leaned on the counter, supporting her head with one hand. "We could have gone to any bar and watched the game in New York."

"It's the NBA! Anyway, it's the last quarter. You like basketball."

"Normally." She didn't mind it, but she simply wasn't in the mood to stare at a TV all evening while on vacation.

"Come on, we took a walk, saw the town, we even went to that museum. This bar's nice." And he had been completely ignoring it from the start, barely taking notice of the people around them or the ancient look of the venue, the deep carve and scrawl marks in the wood or the open fireplace in the corner. It was actually a pretty nice place, in a plain, dark way. It had character.

She looked up at the TV, taking a swig of her beer. Good beer at least. Jerseys running back and forth, dribbling.

"Not going so well for them, is it?" a bearded man in his sixties sitting on the stool to her left commented.

She smiled politely, not really feeling up to small talk with strangers. "Doesn't look like it."

"Ah, it's all just show, anyway."

"Damn it!" Brian exclaimed on her other side. "That cut cost them. He should have guarded him."

She shrugged, semi-interested. "No chance of a win now."

"They should have made him play further forward" he grumbled.

"He still wouldn't have blocked that pass" her older neighbor butted in once more.

"But he wouldn't have been able to cut through in the first place."Brian set the beer bottle to his lips, so captivated by the game that he forgot to drink.

"That one two-pointer hardly made the game." In any case, this game seemed to be more about showing off flashy moves than actually winning, she thought.

"Whatever you say. I'm done." Their companion put some cash down on the bar, slipped off his stool and tipped his baseball cap in farewell.

"Smartass" Brian muttered under his breath.

She touched his arm. "Guess we're not making new friends tonight."

He finally shifted his attention to her, a small smile playing around his lips. "Is that what we had planned for this evening?"

"You had a date with a TV planned. Don't let me keep you."

"Hm, TV's looking less interesting by the minute." He took a look around, sizing up their location. "Hey, I like this place."

"You're only just realizing this now?"

"You know how my brain works."

"Slowly?"

"It takes time to process things- look at that!" He ran his hand over the wooden counter of the bar, which was covered in layer upon layer of scribbles, mostly one-liners by visitors and heart shapes with K + S and likewise in them, some political statements or cryptic poetry. "Let's add ours."

"I think cops damaging property kind of sets a bad example." Not that it was going to make much of a difference anymore.

He rolled his eyes at her and raised his hand to hail the barkeeper. "Hey, do you have a pen by any chance? It's cool if we write on here, right?"

The barkeeper gave them permission with a lazy wave of his hand and pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket. Brian began to work on the wood with it, which wasn't easy, as it had clearly been treated and the ink didn't stick too well. Olivia watched him half write, half carve "Olivia & Brian, 2014" into the counter. He didn't go so far as to put a tacky heart around it, but he did use a fancy "and" symbol and took particular care with the O and the B. It was surprisingly sweet to see their names on this bar, there to stay – at least until they would be covered by the scribbles of others.

"There" he finished, running his hand over it once more, and leaned over to kiss her.

"Nice vandalism." She kissed him a second time and stayed close to his face, smiling at him. His eyes were sparkling. Basketball seemed to have an exhilarating effect.

"I didn't mind the museum" he stated out of the blue. "It had ships, after all."

"Big ships."

He took her hand into his. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. I feel very educated about marine warfare now."

"Good." He studied her face, clearly thinking about something.

"What?"

"Liv, how are you doing, really? Don't just say 'fine', I'm serious."

Yes, he was. But she didn't want to turn serious right now. There were still things she didn't like to share with him, things she wanted to keep separate. A shared load wasn't a halved load, it was double a load. Keeping the darkness out was important. "I'm good." She shrugged. "I mean, you know…things have been stressful. But I' m managing." She was managing, as Dr. Lindstrom liked to remind her.

"I'm glad" he said, satisfied with the answer.

The moment was interrupted by loud cheering from the other stools and they both jerked back, looking up at the screen.

"Four in a row?!" she exclaimed.

He shook his head. "How did we miss that?"


	13. Bonding

"Hey!"

She jumped at the enthusiastic greeting, looking up from her phone to find her little brother beaming down at her. "Simon!" They hugged without hesitation, as if it were something they frequently did. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, sis."

They sat down at the table, and she immediately sized up his appearance. He had gained some weight since she had last seen him, when she had picked him up after 60 days of custody and he had looked drawn. However, he had kept that "lost boy" facial expression, which made him appear younger than he actually was, and slightly unkempt hair. He seemed alert and in a good mood, and he had clearly made an effort to dress up in slacks and a crisp, ironed shirt. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been meaning to-"

"Please don't" she interrupted him. There was no point in him explaining their two-year gap yet again. He was the master of excuses.

"I was happy you called" he said earnestly. "Really. I was always waiting to call you with good news, when I had good news."

They had kept in touch by phone after his release from prison on and off again, but it had tapered off quickly. He had called her once, right after she had gone to stay at Brian's place. She hadn't been in a place where she had wanted to talk to him. After that, he had never called again. Not exactly brother of the year. And still, he was the brother she got, and after seeing Brian with his family at dinner, after talking about their siblings in the car, she had decided to take the initiative. He had sounded so happy to hear her voice.

"You look good" he complimented her. "I like the shorter hair."

"Thanks."The waitress brought them menus. "I hope Thai is okay? I wasn't sure what you like."

"Thai is perfect."

She had chosen the restaurant for its casual atmosphere and proximity to work. Brian had suggested she invite Simon over to the apartment, but when she had told him she wasn't ready for that, he had understood. After their previous meetings, which had always ended with her having to save him somehow, she wanted to reconnect on neutral grounds first.

"What exactly is guava juice?" he asked, trying to bridge the awkwardness between them.

"What it sounds like. Juice from a guava. It's very sweet." She began flipping through the menu, looking for something light to eat.

"I think I'll pass."

"Good idea. Anyway, how's my niece?" She couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer.

He smiled broadly. "Livvy's great. She got so big, every time I see her, she's grown. She runs, jumps, talks; she loves her toy car. I can barely keep up with her."

"Wow." It was hard to imagine that the baby she had only gotten to meet once was now a toddler, nearing the end of toddlerhood.

"You want to see a picture?"

"Of course!"

"I got them on my phone. I can email you some!"

"I'd love that."

He turned his phone around so she could see and zoomed in on a little girl in a bright orange snowsuit, sitting on a swing. She took the phone from him, staring down at the screen mesmerized. "Oh my God." The child had short, curly black hair and big dark eyes, and had obviously refused to smile for the camera, pouting. She had changed a lot, but it was definitely her niece, the girl who had inherited her name. She could feel a smile spreading from her lips to her eyes. "She's beautiful."

"Just swipe to the right, there's more pictures." Livvy and her mom. Livvy riding her toy car, laughing. Livvy hugging a snowman. Livvy and her dad, making snow angels. "This was right after the supervised visits were lifted. I'm so glad they did it early. That first day being outside with her again, without a social worker looking over your shoulder all the time…"

"Must have been a hard time."

"At least I didn't lose her. It was so close. Listen, I never thanked you properly for what you did for me-"

"You don't need to-"

"No, I want to!" he interjected emotionally. "Thank you. I can be her dad again now. Without you, that wouldn't have been possible. I got a second chance. I won't blow it. I promise, I'll never do anything to risk that again, ever." He looked so honest when he promised it, pleading with her to believe him.

And she did believe it, to an extent, or rather, believed that he meant what he said. But good intentions had never been his problem. She hoped he was right this time, that his impulsivity wouldn't get the better of him. She wanted to believe that he had changed. "I know you won't."

"I thought a lot about what you said. About growing up. I cleaned up my act as best as I could. I mean it's not easy with a record, but I'll take any job I can so I can send them money. I work. Nothing fishy, all legal, paying taxes and all. I found a steady place to live, a safe place in the city where I hope I can take the kids someday, somewhere they can inspect. I even put child safety features into all the power sockets, just in case - read a book about that, about how to make your place childproof. I keep nothing dangerous around the house. I don't even drink anymore."

"That's great, Simon, really." She wanted to be supportive and reassure him that she had faith in him. He was trying so hard to please her, she could tell. She hoped it wasn't only about that, about satisfying external requirements. But he seemed to get the idea.

"I want to be a real dad again." He started fumbling with his napkin nervously. "And I want you to get to know Livvy, too, I already talked to Tracy about it, she's fine with it. If you want to see her, that is."

"Of course I want to!" More badly than he could even imagine. If she had a child, she would never do anything to risk losing it. But it wasn't fair to think like that, she knew. Sometimes, things just happened. "How's Ty?"

His smile faded. "I had no right to see him, officially. And there's no way they'd let me adopt him now, even if Tracy agreed. I saw him sometimes, when she brought him along to the supervised visits, but…he doesn't know me so well anymore. Doesn't trust me."

"Can you blame him? He's a little kid, he was taken away from his home, then put back with his mom, he lost you all of a sudden, you only went to see his sister… Don't give up on him. Give it time."

"I'm not giving up" he replied quickly. "I'm working on it. But there's more court hearings to go, and…"

Ah. That's where this was going. "…and you were hoping I'd speak in your favour?"

"Only if you want. It's up to you." He said it with that puppy dog look on his face, playing on her emotions, whether it was on purpose or not.

"God, Simon…"She crossed her arms. "I swear…"

"It's okay. I get it. I didn't come here to ask you that. Honestly, I wouldn't have brought it up. I still want us to be closer, either way."

"Well, you're not making it easy."She remembered the Captain's words when she'd told him her brother was the only family she had – "and he knows it". Either way, there was only one answer she could give. "I'll do it. I'll give a statement in your favour."

"Really?" His face lit up. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no idea what that means-"

"On the condition that I really need to know what I'm talking about. No nonsense. I can't lie to them, not when it's about your kid. You have to be straight with me. Any issues, literally anything they could find – tell me now, not when it's too late."

"Absolutely."

"Okay." She gave him a firm look, hoping that she had gotten through to him.

The waitress came by to take their orders, and they handed back the menus. She looked out the window, watching the busy street with people in business clothes passing by. It was a sunny day, with the light reflecting off the glasses on their table. "Where's Tracy on all this?" The last time they had talked on the phone, they had just begun meeting up outside the supervised visits again.

"We're talking. She wants me in the kids' lives, and she's willing to even give us a chance."

"Really?" She had not expected that.

"Yeah. It took a long time to get there, but I hope we can work things out. She's not sure. She doesn't want to move in together again, for now. But we're dating –if you can call it that- and, who knows."

"That sounds hopeful."

"There's a chance" he agreed. "Beyond that, I don't know. I want to be with her, I'd still marry her on the spot, but…love tends to get me into trouble."

"Yeah, I get that" she sighed. And still, he had such a potential to be a good guy, she was sure of it.

"Anyway, what's new with you?"

"Oh. Quite a bit, actually. I got a promotion" she told him with a tiny bit of pride. "I'm a Sergeant now."

"Sergeant? Wow! That's huge news! Why didn't you say right away? Congratulations! We need to drink to that!" He raised his glass of water to her. "You've earned it."

"Thanks. It means more supervisory responsibilities, especially now that our Captain retired. It's a change, and it's definitely taken some getting used to."

"You're good at managing people though. I can tell. You'll be great."

"We'll see. Not everyone's happy I'm suddenly their boss."

"I guess it's hard to be their boss and their friend at the same time." He sized up the situation with surprising accuracy. "But they'll get used to it."

"When did you become so optimistic?"

"Just takes practice." He shrugged, and again, he was very spot on. "Don't work too hard though."

"Easier said than done."

"Hm. Do you still live with…Brian?" It took him a second to recall the name, she noticed.

"Yeah."

"How are things with him?"

She took a large sip of her water, killing time to think about her answer. This was her estranged brother, and yet it felt so easy to talk to him. There was no pretence. "Up and down. Sometimes, we move forward, but then it's two steps forward and three steps back. We're both married to our jobs. I get lonely sometimes, but…it feels safe with him. He's patient. I like coming home when he's there. What more can you ask for?"

"But?" he asked, clearly not understanding her hesitation.

"But I don't know if it's enough."

"Enough how?"

"He doesn't want children." She hadn't wanted to bring it up, but there it was. "At least not right now, and let's face it, it's kind of late in our lives for that, anyway. And I don't even know how it would work, logistically, with our jobs. And I don't want to push him into anything he doesn't want. Anyway, it's not like you can just adopt a kid simply because you want one. But it's a stupid idea that keeps going round and round in my head."

"Children are a big deal" he replied sympathetically. "Not something to give up easily."

"Yeah, but I'm not even sure if that's what I want anymore. If I could do it right now. I don't want to do it on my own."

"You'd make a great mom."

"Don't say that." She was immediately reminded of her conversation with Elliot years ago.

"Why not?"

"Because it's what everyone says, but it doesn't change anything. I don't know if I've made the right choices."

"Have you talked to Brian about it?"

"Not really. I don't want to freak him out."

"I think you probably need to talk to him. How else are you going to figure out if you're on the same page?"

She knew he was right, but something kept holding her back. The timing never seemed right. "I know." She looked out the window again, watching a family push a buggy outside. "You know, we went on this road trip, just a few days, to get away. It was so perfect."

"Sounds nice." He folded his napkin again after unfolding it. It was hard for him to keep still. "I'm sorry about…about everything that happened. I know you've had a rough year."

She knew what he was alluding to, and she didn't want him to go there. It seemed too personal. "You had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, but…I just didn't know what to say, how to help."

"So you said nothing." She understood completely; it was the reaction most people showed to extraordinary tragedy. However, understanding didn't make it any better.

"Yeah."

"Well, for future reference: I wasn't expecting you to be a hero. But anything's better than nothing."

He nodded, unable to look at her. "I'm sorry."


	14. Fear

She hung up her coat and walked into the main room, startled by the sound of his voice, which indicated that he had made it home before her. When he saw her, he jumped up from his chair, nearly dropping the phone in his hand. "Oh…she's here…yes, everything's fine…thanks…" He ended the conversation, threw the phone down on the table and rushed over to her, hugging her without another word.

"What- Brian!"

His breath came out in shaky gasps. He was holding her too tightly for her to be able to look at him, almost clinging to her. His dread instantly infected her.

"What's wrong? Bri? What happened?!"

"Thank g- you're all right" he finally managed. His voice sounded raspy in her hair.

"Yeah, of course, what-"

He abruptly loosened the embrace, looking down at her incredulously. "Where have you been?"

"What do you mean?" She resented the accusation in his tone. It had been a sufficiently exhausting day as it was, talking a young woman down from a window ledge. She was drained. "I was away on a case, working. What are you doing home?"

"Do you have any idea-" His arms were still wrapped around her. "Fuck, the wine, the food…"

She saw the open bottle on the table, a large red stain still next to it where she had spilled when her phone had rung, and remembered the dishes she had left all over the kitchen, the drained pasta she had been unable to eat, the halved onion out on the cutting board and the umbrella stand she had knocked over on her way out. She abruptly realized what the apartment must have looked like to him when he arrived. "I'm so sorry. I got called away on an emergency; it couldn't wait."

"You didn't leave a note; you always leave me a note!"

"I wasn't expecting you home this early." He had been forced to take a three day class out of town on professional ethics and boundaries. "Your seminar wasn't supposed to end until-"

"I called you several times!" The words seemed to spill out of him. "Your cell, your work line; I called Amaro, he said he hadn't seen you in two days, that you were supposed to go to New Jersey today to meet ADA Krisinsky there. I even called Krisinsky's office, but he said you never showed up. He was pissed about it, too."

She closed her eyes, running one hand through her hair. "His assistant must have forgotten to give him my message."

"I couldn't find you." The way he said it, the way he had talked to everyone in her life, gave her the creeps, but when she looked at his face, she didn't see possessiveness there, only blank fear. He looked like hell. This ran deeper than today.

"I'm sorry. I was supposed to go to New Jersey, but I got a call from a rape victim. I had to go see her. I couldn't answer my cell while talking to her."

He seemed unable to take in her explanation. "Nick said you went after a serial rapist, trying to connect the dots. He was worried, too."

Damn Nick. He shouldn't have told him anything. "I'm sorry I scared you." A blurry memory intruded, an image of him at the hospital, just standing there with his jaw clenched, looking at her. He hadn't lost it once in those early days and weeks, not until he'd been confronted with parts of what had happened. There hadn't been any room for him to do that. She had said some pretty horrible things to him back then, about her life being over, and he had just kept assuring her that it wasn't. She pushed the memory aside.

"You're all right?" he repeated, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes!" And she needed him to be, too. This worrying gave her a tight, entrapped sort of feeling. It hadn't been like this since the one time he had tried to talk her out of going back to work in sexual offences. "And, for what it's worth, I sent Fin and Amanda to go find that rapist. Never one person alone. Nick just didn't know – bad timing. I'll give him a call."

He let go of her at last, turning away and running one hand down his face.

"Hey" she grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking away, "it's all right. I get it. Won't happen again. You're here, I'm here, we're fine."

"I know. I just couldn't…not again…" He bit his lip. "If anything ever-"

"Nothing's going to happen." His fear scared her. She didn't know that nothing was going to happen, but she needed to believe it. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. You?" He seemed to have forgotten he had already asked her.

"Yeah. Just a long day." All she wanted was to plop down on the couch and forget about it.

He put his arm around her. "It's cold outside. You want to take a bath?"

"A bath?" This sudden burst of attentiveness was confusing. Brian wasn't the type to draw baths for people or light candles.

"Yeah. Just to relax a bit. I can clean up in the meantime."He hadn't touched anything yet.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"Well…that actually sounds tempting" she said, still baffled at the perfect offer.

"Good. I'll get that bath started."

"Not so fast. How was your seminar?"

"My seminar?" he asked absent-mindedly. "Oh. Yeah. You know. Boundaries – good. No boundaries – bad. Roleplay with a bunch of strangers – awkward."

She wrapped her arm behind his back and leaned against him slightly. "It'll make a good impression that you went."

He kissed her forehead, whispering "I'm sorry".

"About what?" When he didn't answer but just looked at her sadly, with that look of pity she hated getting from people, she knew that he didn't mean freaking out on her. "No."

"No?"

"You don't get to take that on yourself."

"If I'd come over that day like I said I would…" He stopped himself. They had never talked about this.

She broke away from him. "If you'd come over, what? You don't think I've gone over that scenario a million times in my head? If I'd pulled my gun, if I hadn't used that interrogation technique with him, if you'd come over - you know how I hoped that someone would come and save the day?" She was angry he had brought it up, angry that this was nagging at him, too. He didn't get to be the bad guy in this story. "Let me tell you what would have happened if you'd come over: He'd have shot you. Actually, he probably would have tortured you for a while to get to me, then shot you before moving on. It's not some big mystery; he told me so. And don't even think that you would have been faster, you wouldn't have been. That little moment of shock and surprise was all he needed. He'd have shot you, and then what? You'd be dead. How would that have helped?"

Brian swallowed and reached for her, but she pulled back. "Liv…"

"I'm so tired. Can we stop putting that on ourselves, please? We can't change it."

"Okay" he said helplessly. "I was just so worried today."

"I know." She thought of Claire, the rape victim who had so nearly jumped to her death today in her desperation.


	15. Long Nights

She was leaning against the kitchen counter in the semi-darkness, sipping her water. The house was completely silent, except for the occasional sound of a car going by outside, far, far below. She had opened the blinds partly to let the streetlights fall inside, avoiding complete darkness. The light formed a broad beam on the floor, splitting the room in half. It was too quiet. She longed for a shower, but she couldn't do that at this hour, not without waking up Brian as well as the neighbours. She felt sweaty after that indistinct dream of being trapped somewhere, in a dark, constricted place, somewhere … No. She made herself think about the upcoming day, all the things she needed to get done, the reports she had to check on her desk. If she finished early enough, she could hit the gym after work, provided she wasn't too tired from this weird schedule.

She heard him moving in the bedroom, sensed his approach even before his obligatory "hey" to let her know he was there. He came to stand beside her, leaning against the counter with his back and facing the opposite direction.

"Did I wake you up?"

"No." He glanced at the digital radio. "It's four o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah. You have a couple more hours. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep anymore. You?"

"Same."

"Nightmares?" he guessed correctly.

"Yeah."

"You still get them a lot?"

Although she knew he hadn't meant it that way, the primary thing she heard in that question was the "still". "Still", implying that she shouldn't be having nightmares anymore, since a sufficient amount of time had passed. "Yeah. Less than before."

He took her hand without looking at her, intertwining their fingers. This was part of their normality, usually if she woke him up by accident.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What about me?"

"Why aren't you asleep?" She suddenly felt guilty about her earlier harshness, considering how shaken he had been. She didn't want to be so irritated with him all the time, yet somehow, it kept happening, and they kept having arguments that always ended with one of them withdrawing.

"Just thinking."

She squeezed his hand. "I didn't want you to think that it was your fault. Because it wasn't. Wasn't mine, either-"

"Of course not."

"Yeah, but it takes a long time to figure that out. And going over it, again and again, just-"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry I brought it up again. I didn't want to make you think about it."

"We both think about it, anyway" she said, trying to be as pragmatic as possible while still wishing they could be done with this to for good. "We can't let it become this…this dark thing that's always in the room while we pretend it's not there."

"I just don't know what to do. Or say."

"I don't know, either." There wasn't anything in particular to say or do that would wipe out the last few months. "I'm sorry I can't be more normal."

"No, that's not it. I just wish you'd tell me what was going on." Yes, he did. And at the same time, she could always see glimpses of his relief when she assured him everything was okay, his fear of her saying something he might not know how to deal with.

"I can't" she replied quietly, focusing on the fingerprints on their shiny new kitchen cupboards. "Not always. It's not that I don't trust you, but some things, you just got to figure out for yourself." _And I don't want to cause any more secondary trauma._

"Yeah." He was gazing at the gap in the blinds, preoccupied. The streetlamps cast a cold light into the room, leaving everything pale and dulled.

"But you-" she hesitated, unsure how to word it. "-you can talk to me, you know." He wasn't generally the "let's stare at the moon and talk about our feelings" type, and really, she was grateful for it. Still, she wondered where he went sometimes when his mind was clearly on something else. They stood in that foggy state between night and day, between asleep and awake for a few moments.

"When you were- when we were looking for you" he broke the silence, still not looking at her, "I made a deal. That if- when you got back, everything would be different. That as long as you…returned, I don't know, I'd be there no matter what."

She didn't know how to respond. It was weird and uncomfortable to think about it from the other side of things, as herself being absent. After all, he hadn't been the one all this had happened to. And yet, there was a deep sadness in all of it that she couldn't quite pinpoint, and a deep caring. So much regret.

"Guess it didn't work out that way."

"Some promises are impossible to keep. I told myself that if I got out of there alive, I'd change my entire life." She shook her head. "I told myself so many things…"

"You got out. That's what matters. You had to get _yourself_ out" he said bitterly.

"I did." And that part, that one fact, was the thing she kept reminding herself of, over and over again. _You got yourself out. Therefore, you are not weak._ _"_Look, I know I haven't really said this enough, but thank you. For, um, being there. Still."


	16. Colliding

"Can we _please _just drop this?" He began to walk a few steps ahead of her, up towards the bridge, but she caught up with him quickly, unwilling to let it go.

"No, we can't."

"We're out in public" he pointed out, trying to lower his voice. "I don't want to fight about a stupid comedian."

"Stupid comedian?!" She stopped in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. "Were we at the same show?"

Brian turned around. "He was obviously trying to piss you off. It worked, too."

"I can't believe you're defending him!"

"I'm not defending what he did! It's disgusting!"

"So it's okay to tell others to do it, just not to do it yourself?" He was unbelievable in his double standards, his way of dissociating between very connected events. His placating attitude, his lack of emotional commitment to this issue, enraged her.

"It's freedom of speech. They were adults! You don't go to a comedy show waiting to hear life instructions!"

"Just to hear so-called jokes that perpetuate restrictive stereotypes, victim blaming and diffusion of responsibility. 'She's a slut; it's her fault.' Do you think rape is funny?"

"Are you seriously asking me that question?"He suddenly switched from exasperated to equally furious.

"I don't know, what am I supposed to ask? You used to be an SVU detective, how can you not see the connection there?"

"How come you always need to have the moral high ground?"

"What?"

"When someone disagrees with you, it's always because they just don't care enough about justice, or because they don't see the truth-"

"That's really not fair" she answered coldly.

"Well, I didn't rape anyone, either, and it's not my fault the case didn't go well." He turned his palms upward, shaking his head. "I didn't laugh at his non-funny rape jokes. So, speaking of fair…"

"You told me to relax, like it's no big deal. But that's what people have been saying for decades every time a woman brings up this issue. 'Just relax', 'stop being so uptight about it'." She felt like she was talking to a wall. He couldn't possibly understand what it meant to her, that it was everything she had been working for. How depressing it was that after 15 years in this job, some things remained the same. She had simply assumed that they would have a connection on this issue, but they didn't. Their experiences, as a woman and as a man, were too different. Even Nick, who was more with her on this, had a different, paternalistic perspective.

"Jesus, Liv, I obviously didn't mean it like that. But you take it on board so much, everything that happens, everything someone says, and everything's so black and white with you."

"Rape is black and white! That's the point! Shades of grey is the classic rapist excuse!"

"I know that!" he shouted in frustration, loud enough for a passing woman to turn her head. "But because of that, we all have to hate the same songs, boycott the same entertainers-"

"If they make light of sexual violence, yeah!" Their conversation was turning in circles. "It's the only way to change things. It's an uphill fight."

"Do you have to fight all the fights?"

"I have to fight this one, because it's my job!"

"You put your job on the line for this!"

"It was the right thing to do" she insisted habitually. Why was that so hard to understand?

"Was it? Is that all it's about? Or were you trying to prove something?"

Yes, she had been trying to prove herself. She had been forced to admit it to herself, going over her argument with Barba in her head over and over again. She had screwed up on this case, not looked at the evidence clearly, not made the sensible decision. But hearing it from Brian was different; she wasn't ready for this accusation coming from him. "I made a judgement call. I can't change that now. I did what seemed right at the time. Maybe it was wrong, from a legal point of view. But that doesn't change it from a moral point of view."

"Maybe not. But you identify with the victims so much –you know you do, always have-" he stressed the last part, seeing her facial expression, "and this case, it took over everything."

"What are you saying?"

"That there's always more injustice to fight, no matter what you do. You'll never be finished. And life is tough enough as it is, do we really have to fight about this stuff as well?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it matters!" She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the icy wind as best as possible. "Look, I think I need some time to myself. I'll walk home."

"Fine. Do what you gotta do."

"I'll see you later."

_Author's Note:__ This is something I didn't want to do as it breaks with the flow of the story, but I just needed to take this opportunity to thank you for all your generous and complimentary reviews. It's so great to hear that people are actually reading and enjoying this story, and it gives me the motivation to keep going with it. I particularly appreciate detailed feedback. If you have any critical comments or suggestions for improvement, feel free to hit me with them as well! In particular, I would like to thank you, Carla, because I so enjoy reading your reactions and thoughts on what is going on in the story, and it actually gives me ideas for further chapters. Thank you!_


	17. Terror

_Author's Note:__ This chapter may be upsetting/triggering for some people. Please take a moment to decide whether you really want to read it or not. _

_Terror_

It was her own scream that woke her up, sounding foreign and confusing in the darkness. Although she had no recollection of the reason for her scream, an immense dread filled every fibre of her being. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was drenched in sweat. For a moment, she had no idea what was going on; all she could feel was something on her, entrapping her, and she shoved it away, kicking – against sheets. Sheets?

Someone kept saying her name over and over, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light that was created by the street in spite of the blinds, she sat up sharply and realized it was Brian.

"Liv, hey, Liv, it's okay, you're here at the apartment, it was just a dream. It's only me" he stated firmly with his hands up, keeping his distance from her. "You're awake now. Everything's okay, Liv. You're fine."

"S- sorry" she panted, finally understanding what had happened. "Sorry." She buried her face in her hands, wiping away the wetness on her face.

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

"Didn't mean to wake you" she mumbled. Her dread was slowly dissipating, being replaced by anger and disappointment in herself. She had been doing better lately with the nightmares, at least in terms of not waking him up. And now she was doing it again, at a time when they had barely spoken to each other since their last fall-out. Her nights hadn't been this bad in a while.

"It's all right, really." She could hear in his voice that it was clearly not all right, but still something that scared him very much aside from stealing his sleep. "Want me to turn on the light?"

"No." It would make it impossible for either one of them to go back to sleep. "Why won't they stop?" She was so tired, so, so tired of being terrified.

"Hey…" He scooted closer, reaching out his arm for her carefully, and she leaned back against him sideways, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." Her mind was too clouded to really ponder what exactly she was sorry for, but she was so sick of all of it. Tears were still streaming down her face, she realized, and she couldn't stop them.

"Me too." He put his other arm around her, too, stroking her back. "That you're going through that. But remember what Lindstrom said? The nightmares could be, what did he call it, 'adaptation', your way of processing things."

"I should have gone for CBT, not this psychodynamic stuff." She had been working on rescripting nightmares in therapy, but it was all working too slowly for her, if at all.

"You're safe now" Brian repeated, and she could feel his cheek against the top of her head as he handed her a tissue.

"Thank you." She took a moment to try and calm herself down. Her breathing easily returned to normal, but it was the fear and disgust that she couldn't quite get rid of, that shaky exhaustion left in its wake. Once again, she was glad Brian was here, that she hadn't been alone but that she could feel his warmth against her body, and at the same time, she hated that he was here to see her like this. However, she was too exhausted to resist it.

"What was that dream about?"

"Honestly? I don't even remember. It was weird…vague…" She normally didn't like discussing it with him, but this had been so disturbing that part of her wanted to verbalise it to reduce the confusion. Sometimes, in more recent months, she had told him about her dreams, as long as they hadn't been too full of horrific imagery. He hadn't been freaked out by one of them yet.

"Was it a dream you've had before?"

"They're often similar, but…no…not that exact same dream." Intrusive images returned to her, images of fight or flight, of blood and distorted faces. They were too absurd to describe, too colourful to ignore, too frightening to organize. When it came to visual memories, she often became mute. "I couldn't move." It was the easiest part to put into words, so she decided to start there.

"Why not?" he asked, when she didn't offer any more information.

"I don't know. It was like I was paralysed or something. And…on the white tiles…there was blood and…I mean- I was on the tiles. And there was blood everywhere. The corridor was so long, it wouldn't end. And I just remember the big, white tiles, and all the blood splatter. Because it was me" she suddenly realized. "I hurt someone. But the corridor was endless, and I couldn't move. It was sticky. And the tiles, they were hot…they burned…" She swallowed, remembering how the dream had transformed, shifting shapes. "And…"

"And?"

"And…nothing, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put that on you." One of these days, it would be too much, too much darkness and hopelessness and too little improvement, and he would leave her. She dreaded that day.

"Liv. I can take it. I'm here for you."

She took a deep breath. "I killed him."

"Lewis?"

"Probably. I don't know. It wasn't that logical, kept switching back and forth. I could move, and then I couldn't. And the voice told me not to make a sound…something was going to happen, but I don't know what…" She shivered involuntarily.

"Sounds frightening" he commented, and she was grateful he was simply listening without interpreting anything into it.

"Yeah." She draped her arm across his body. "You know, sometimes, it's not the stuff I remember that's the worst. Sometimes, it's the things I don't remember, or half remember. I've pieced most of it together, but there are some facts I will just never know. Whole chunks of time. It's like I lost control of that time."

"You were injured, on drugs, dehydrated, sleep and food deprived and afraid for your life" he rationalized. "No wonder."

"I know" she said quietly. It was hard to keep talking. "But those gaps…I should be glad I don't remember. But there are glimpses of things and from the- the evidence on my body" she could feel him tense at the expression, "I know what happened and what didn't happen." Her own voice sounded foreign, low and detached to her as she recounted this. Brian seemed to be holding his breath. "And when it's there –the evidence- and you don't know how it got there, it's like you were just this lifeless prop that he could do anything with. He could use you; maybe it was an extra turn-on for him. Which, I guess, is much better than suffering through it, but…shit, I get why people say doing the rape kit is the second traumatic part." She recalled the cool air on her naked body, the combs, swabs and the fluorescent light showing body fluids at various places on her chest and stomach. She got lost in the memory for a moment, before returning to the present.

Brian seemed lost for words. There wasn't anything to be said.

"But he didn't rape me" she reiterated, although she knew he knew that. She had to keep reminding herself of this point, not because it eased the pain of all the other things Lewis had done to her, but because it was the one area where he had failed, the one thing that had remained intact. "Whatever else he did in that- that time…" She was at the end of her story.

"I'm so sorry" Brian whispered after a pause.

"I hate that he took that certainty." Of being in control. Of knowing what was real. "I wonder how different things would be if I'd just shot him."

"If you'd shot him, he could have taken everything. Your freedom, your badge-"

"But he'd be dead."


	18. Playgrounds

It was an unusually warm day for the season. They had been able to leave their thick winter coats at home for lighter layers and get some fresh air, which was why Simon had suggested they meet at Central Park, on open grounds. She had been surprised at the suggestion, more than surprised at his insistence she bring Brian along so he could meet him, and most surprised at Brian's willingness to go after he had expressed some skepticism about her brother's newfound involvement in her life the last time the topic had come up. She hadn't been sure how she felt about this big family meeting. Of course, she had been beyond excited to see her niece, but there was a lot of pressure on this situation, with her and Brian, Tracy and Simon, and two kids who were only just getting used to having Simon around again and had now been confronted with two more strangers.

But here they were beside a playground, with Tracy and Simon in particular too busy for any awkwardness to come up. For the past half hour, they had watched the children play on the slides, mediated a sibling argument over toy trucks, played chase, played unintentional chase when little Olivia had zoomed off on her tricycle, drawn on the tiles with chalk and regularly persuaded the kids to keep their scarf/gloves/hat on. She was surprised how natural it all felt, with everyone getting along so far. The two women had finally sat down on a bench to catch a break –looking after young children was more exhausting than Olivia had remembered- while the men had gone to take a look at Ty's secret fortress in the bushes by the playground. The little girl, Livvy, was crouched at their feet, moving the toy trucks around chalk drawn roads and an obstacle course they had created earlier, making car noises.

"They've grown so much" Olivia commented, watching her niece.

"Two years is long time in a child's life" Tracy replied, putting the pink straw bottle she had been holding back into her bag.

"Yeah. And a long time for supervised visits." She knew she had to tread carefully here, but if she was going to give a statement on this matter, she needed to know how things were going.

"Oh yes. I'm glad that's done."

"Must have been hard. Were you and the kids on your own?"

"No, my mom helped out a lot. Don't know how it would have worked otherwise. Still, Simon…"Tracy broke off.

"Simon?"

"I know he means well. And I think it will be easier, having him help out. But…it makes me nervous, too. I don't want things going wrong again."

"Yeah, that's understandable." Trust needed to be built over time. She glanced over towards the bushes. Her brother was helping Ty push a stick into the ground as a pole, while Brian tied some sort of piece of fabric around it. From what she could see, Simon was nothing but sweet and considerate with both children. "But if you can work together-"

"-that's what's best for the children? I hope so." The younger woman shrugged uncertainly. "Either way, we were such idiots. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Vroom!" They were interrupted by Livvy running one of her trucks into Olivia's boot, and making a big explosion sound. She looked up at her aunt with large, dark eyes. "It crashed!"

"It crashed?" Olivia exclaimed. "Oh no! Is it burning?"

"Yeah! Lots and lots of big fire!" The little girl waved her arms wildly.

She gasped. "We need the firefighters to put it out! Where's their truck?"

Livvy ran to get it and sped over the tiles with it, zig-zagging around the obstacles while imitating a siren. "Go, water, go!" she shouted dramatically. "Shhhhh!"

"Is there enough water in the truck?"

"No! We- we need a helicopter!"

"Uh, okay…" There was no helicopter in sight. "Do you see one?"

"We left the helicopter at home, sweetie" Tracy interjected.

"Nooo! Fire!"

"What about a flying truck?" Olivia asked, feeling incredibly ridiculous. "The red one over there?"

"You do it!" her niece commanded.

She crouched down, grabbed the truck and moved it through the air. "Attention, attention, firefighters are flying in!"

Livvy giggled. "Trucks can't fly."

"This one can." She landed it next to her niece. "Shhhh!"

"Don't stop!"

"Shhh! Okay, the fire's out-"

"No!"

"No? Okay, what if your ladder goes up and you spray it from above?" The firetruck didn't have actual hoses, so the ladder was the only part that was movable. They kept going with their fire extinguishing efforts until the little girl was satisfied that the flames had, indeed, been put out. She promptly produced another "accident" to repeat the pretend play, gleefully enjoying the drama. They carried on like this until Livvy became restless, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, walking around and crouching again.

"Livvy, do you need to use the bathroom?" her mother asked clearly. The child ignored her, trying to smudge some of the chalk on the tiles with her glove. "Do you need to pee?"

"No" she said stubbornly.

Tracy sighed. "I think I better go find a bathroom before it's too late. Come on, sweetie, let's go-"

"Nooo" she whined, looking up at her aunt. "'lifia."

"I'll stay right here until you get back. I'll watch your trucks for you, okay?"

Her niece kept protesting even when Tracy scooped her up and walked away quickly, trying to find the public restrooms or, presumably, a quiet corner somewhere. Olivia glanced over towards the fort in the bushes, only to find that it had been abandoned in the meantime. Instead, she spotted Simon and Ty on the carousel, pulling at the wheel in the middle to make it spin wildly. Brian had been watching them, but was looking back in her direction and slowly walked over to her bench.

"Having fun?" she asked as he came to sit beside her.

"Yeah. Well, the carousel is a bit too much in my old age, but besides that…" He put his arm on the back of the bench. "Simon seems like a nice guy."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I didn't know him before, only what you told me about him" he justified his earlier dislike.

"Hm, I don't think you were all wrong. He's not exactly been the most responsible or reliable person. But maybe he's changed."

"Maybe."

Her thoughts wandered from Simon to Brian, to the thing that had been somewhere at the back of her mind ever since that dinner at Jessica's house. "Bri?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you never had kids?"

He shifted at the question, adjusting his position. "Uh…wow. That's out of the blue."

"I've just been wondering, since the pregnancy test and when you said- I mean, you're obviously good with children." Watching him with the boys, who were both of the same age, she couldn't help imagining what he would have been like with their own child. Their own child that had existed only in her mind.

"I like children. I mean, I have nothing against children" he explained, visibly uncomfortable. "It was just never the right time. I used to think about it in my thirties, wanting a family, but it just didn't work out. I never really had a long-term relationship. Never with the right person. And with the undercover work, it wasn't exactly an option. I didn't want to be like one of those dads who…who isn't even there. I guess in the end, I chose the job."

"Makes sense."

"What about you?"

She looked at the bleak meadow in front of them, watching a dog scare a group of pigeons into flight. "I always wanted kids. I just didn't want to…mess them up, if that makes any sense."

"You wouldn't have messed them up."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it didn't work out."

"How come?" he pressed the issue, having shared his own thoughts on the subject.

"Same as you. Relationships – not my strong suit." Their timing was so off. She couldn't help wondering what their life might have looked like if she had taken a leap and they had dated back in the day. What chances she had missed. But then again, they had been different people back then, she had felt differently, and they never would have become the people they were now. It was a pointless hypothetical scenario. "And there was always work. I liked my work." Work that wasn't just work but a commitment, with her and Elliot being stuck in this crazy world of their own so much she hadn't truly been open to other things. "There were no other people who could have helped out, either. But I always wanted kids."

He hesitated for a moment before asking: "Still?"

"Yes." She turned her head to look at him. "I know that maybe that ship has sailed but…yes."

His expression was unreadable as he met her gaze. "I didn't know that."

"I know."

"I sort of knew you were disappointed when the test was negative, but you said-"

"You were so relieved. And for the right reasons, I could see why." She wrapped her scarf around her neck once more. It was getting colder.

"It's just been such a rough year."

"Yeah."

"We found it hard to even make time for this."

"I know." It didn't change a thing. She didn't like being commanding officer more than she wanted to have a family. And that was probably the difference between them.

He shook his head, lost for words. "So what now?"

"I don't know." She didn't want to pressure him, but it was too late in her life not to have this conversation.

"It's not that I don't take this –us- seriously. You're my family" he stated simply. It was the sweetest thing she had ever heard him say, but it didn't diminish the disappointment that came with hearing what she had already expected. "But I don't think I'm cut out to be father. It's just not something I expected at this point and…there are so many things we are still figuring out, just with the two of us."

"Yeah…" The strength of their relationship was something she had been wondering about herself. This was not good timing, but there never seemed to be a good time for them. Was she truly ready to be a mother at all costs, come what may, even if she had to go it alone? How large a part of a meaningful life was it, for her? How large a part was Brian? They were questions she didn't want to ask herself, but that needed, ultimately, to be answered. Everything was complicated by the fact that there was simply no time to work through this, that every day seemed to count. Waiting in the hope that his mind would magically change didn't seem like an option. And adoption was a whole other issue, an issue that would require a greater commitment than "if it happens, it happens".

"I mean, how would it even work? Looking after a child takes over your life. It would mean giving up everything." He made it sound like a death sentence. Still, at least he was open to discussing it, after she had sprung the topic on him like that.

"Not everything. But yes, it would mean cutting back at work, it would mean stress, it would be physically and emotionally draining especially at this age-"

"You've really thought this through." He sounded slightly spooked. She could hear in his voice, see in his face and the nervousness in his body that he wasn't ready.

"Yes. Don't get me wrong, I have doubts, too. I wouldn't want to be like my mother, I wouldn't want to put my issues on a child's shoulders." She studied the chalk drawings they had made on the stone tiles earlier, the toy trucks cluttered around them. Further away, Simon and Ty were playing on the big pirate ship. "But with everything I've seen over the years, I don't think we'd be the worst parents in the world, either."

"That's not the point. I just didn't think this was even on the table for us."

"It wasn't, not until that pregnancy test."

"Right." He sighed. "So what does that mean?"

"I don't know. I have to think about it." She spotted Tracy coming back in the distance with Livvy on her arm. "I'm not trying to push you into something you don't want. I just wanted to bring it up, because it's something I've been thinking about."

And she would keep thinking about it without coming to a solution, as ever.


	19. Socialising

She was putting the finishing touches on her hair with a light, glossy spray, trying to fix the small curl she had managed to bring into the ends. Had she moved everything she would need tonight to her small clutch purse? Keys, wallet, cash, tissues, cell phone –which she still needed to switch to silent- pepper spray, the ticket, her lipstick. She was forgetting something.

"So who's this you're going out with again?" Brian called from the bedroom.

"I told you. Lisa from the gym." Lisa, who she'd had coffee with a few times after their work-out. Somehow, they had got to talking about the theatre, and it was Lisa who had asked her if she wanted to go with her.

"And she's not NYPD or from the DA's office."

"No, amazingly, there are other people out there besides us" she replied, knowing full well what he was getting at. She didn't have friends outside work, and she had never really had many female friends to begin with. But this was good, a nice change she was trying to introduce. She would have a night out without talking and, quite possibly, even thinking about work.

"That's cool."

She tugged at her black cocktail dress, trying to straighten it out. It was definitely the fanciest outfit she had worn in a while. It felt good to dress up like this for a change, to be feminine. "You know, you and I could go to the theatre sometime."

"To see something that's not a play? Sure!"

"Come on, I know you don't hate all art. Caught you reading a book the other day, remember?"

"Ha-ha, very funny. It's just plays I can't handle. People on a stage waiting for some guy who never shows up?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not _Waiting for Godot_."

"Yeah, well, three people surrounded by bad props, wearing Mickey Mouse ears for no apparent reason, pretending they're on an ancient battlefield in France and talking fancy?" He did know more about theatre than he liked to let on.

"It's George Bernard Shaw."

She could hear him groan in the other room. "No, thank you. Have fun, though."

"Where does that loathing come from?"

"You really want to know? Ex-girlfriend."

"Ah."

"About ten years ago" he added unnecessarily.

"She broke up with you in a theatre?" She fastened the clasp of her gold necklace, sprayed herself with a hint of perfume and checked her reflection in the mirror. Not bad.

"No. Worse. She made me go to every single play that had someone remotely famous in it with her. It cost me a fortune. She especially loved musicals. Green witches, singing cats – you name it, I've seen it. I will never be able to get the Phantom of the Opera song out of my head."

She laughed at the desperation in his voice. "I'm expecting Broadway tickets for my birthday now." She was ready, leaving the bathroom to pick up her purse from the bed.

"Wow! You look hot" Brian exclaimed bluntly, looking her up and down. "I mean beautiful."

"Thank you. So what are you up to tonight?"

"Probably just some TV. Cleaning."

"Cleaning? I should go out more often." Although it was tidying that their apartment needed more than cleaning, with his belongings scattered everywhere.

"You should" he agreed, walking around the bed towards her. "Get out. Enjoy Shaw."

"Gladly." She really had to get going if she wanted to be on time.

"Wait, will it ruin your make-up if I kiss you?" He was standing in front of her, a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Since when do you ask that question?"

"True." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips, lingering for a moment to enjoy the sensation.

"It's long-life lipstick."

"In that case-"

"No" she stopped him from kissing her again. "Sorry, gotta go."


	20. Physicality

The best since before? Definitely. She couldn't help going over last night again in her head, recalling images and sensations. _His kisses on her neck._ She was still wearing his blue, oversize T-shirt which came down to her mid-thigh. Her bare feet were starting to get cold on the kitchen tiles. She divided the eggs with her spatula, flipping the loose pieces.

"Good morning!"

She briefly turned her head to see Brian coming out of the bedroom, already dressed in slacks and a white shirt, smiling brightly at her. "Morning!"

He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"You smell nice" she commented.

"Showering will do that to a man. This breakfast smells good, too. Wow, there are even tiny little cubes of vegetables in the eggs" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "How very domestic."

A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Don't get used to it."

"Any chance of coffee?"

"You're pushing your luck there. Go ahead and make some."

"Hey, I lit some candles yesterday." He reluctantly loosened his embrace, placing another kiss against her hair before opening the cupboard to grab filers.

"I noticed. And you got lucky." Brian had surprised her when she had come home late, putting on nice music and opening a bottle of wine. He could be smooth when it came to that sort of thing, when he wanted to be.

"Very lucky. Is it just me, or was last night-"

"-amazing?" she finished the sentence. "Yeah."

Something had been different about this night. It had been more like before, in the beginning of their relationship when everything had been fresh and exciting, every touch a reminder of years before yet different. Ever since Lewis, their sporadic sex life had consisted of short, gentle, almost cautious encounters. All the natural ease seemed to have gone out the window, with both her and especially Brian very hesitant to initiate anything. They had established clear rules when she had first signaled she was ready, a while after they had moved into the new apartment, when she had simply decided it was time despite feeling uncomfortable with it. She trusted him and knew that she could stop anything at any point –and she had stopped it at first, when they had tried- that wasn't the issue. But it always took focus to stay in the present and attentive for both of them, which was at odds with letting go. There was always this sense of relief for her when it was over. On the one hand, she had wanted to be with him and allow that intimacy into their relationship again; on the other hand, it had been like a task, just one more area where she had wanted to perform "normal" again and needed to push herself. Brian had assured her repeatedly that it was fine with him if they didn't have sex, that it wasn't that important. But it was important to her. She didn't want to associate sex with her boyfriend with an unrelated, physical assault. A physical assault had nothing to do with sex, she told herself. But she didn't like it when he saw the scars on her body. She didn't like the disgust that sometimes came up in spite of herself, even if she could hold the memories at bay. She didn't like how insecure it made Brian, and how they would then pretend everything was fine when they both knew it wasn't.

But this time, it had been something else, more spontaneous. She hadn't experienced this sensation that she was watching the situation from the outside while being in it. She had simply been there, connected with her body, and it hadn't been an intrusion. It had just been him and her, no third person in the room. Maybe it had been the alcohol or the residual physiological arousal from her exercise, but there hadn't been so much thinking involved for either of them. It felt like an enormous victory. She didn't know if it would last, if it could be like this again next time and the time after that, but for now, it was huge because she knew that it was possible. Progress didn't come in a linear way.

"Liv?"

She noticed her mind had been wandering, missing what he had been talking about. "Hm? Sorry."

"You said you bought more-"

"-filters, yeah! I put them up here so we'd use up the other ones." She reached over to the highest cupboard, wincing when she felt a blunt pain in her shoulder blade.

"You okay?" He reached for the box himself and put it out on the counter, took out a filter and began to fill it.

"Yeah, just sore from my karate class." It was a good kind of ache, the kind that reminded her that she had accomplished something, that her body would be just that little bit stronger. She gently rolled her shoulders.

"Must be some class." He grabbed some plates from the cupboard and began to set the table. They rarely had sit-down breakfasts together, but this was one of those occasions where they both didn't have to be at work for another couple of hours.

"It's pretty demanding. But good, very controlled and…"

"And?"

"It's just good to be that…you know, to go to that boundary. To feel your body." Was she even making any sense?

"Yeah."

She turned off the stove, fetched a coaster and carried the pan to the table. Brian had cut some of what he called her "weird, healthy bread". She was actually hungry, she noticed. They sat down to eat across from each other, and it was so pleasant just to sit and eat together without a hurry. "I wish we could stay home today."

"Me too" he agreed, "but hey, duty calls."

"True." She didn't want to spoil their morning by thinking about the wide range of problems she might be faced with the second she walked into the precinct. She just wanted to sit here, enjoying how the morning sun lit up their apartment after the long night. _Home. _

"Hey, your eggs will get cold." He reached across the table and touched her hand, pulling her attention back. "You're somewhere else today."

"Actually, I'm not. This is nice" she said, and the words were wholly inadequate to express what she was actually trying to communicate to him.

"I know." He smiled again, and she knew he understood. "Um, by the way, there's something I totally forgot to mention last night."

"Uh-oh."

"No uh-oh needed. Reah called me yesterday."

"Really?" This was a surprise. Although he had been speaking to his sister more regularly since their visit, his conversations with his niece when she answered the phone tended to be rather monosyllabic.

"Yeah. Jess mentioned they've not been getting along so great, but apparently, they had another major fight."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. It's just that age, I guess."

"And she called you?" Somehow, that sounded like trouble.

"Yeah. She wanted to ask if maybe she could come stay with us for a weekend sometime?"

"What?" She had been about to take a bite of her bread, but put it down again.

"I think she just wants to get away for a while."

"That's…out of the blue. She's never even been here." And, however close Brian might once have been to his sister and the kids, he hadn't exactly seen much of them over the past couple of years.

"Yeah, it's a bit random. But I don't know, she sounded really disappointed when I didn't say yes right away, and it would only be for a couple of days, just like a visitor."

She didn't know what to say. "No" seemed a bit harsh, but something about this sounded strange to her, and the thought of being responsible for a teenage girl she barely knew with how unsettled their life had been lately wasn't all that appealing.

"Amaro stayed here for a while."

"Amaro's not 14 years old." And he was using two completely different situations to remind her that he hadn't opposed to her guest.

"It would be the weekend, I'd keep an eye on her. It's not likely I'll get called into a desk duty emergency, unless no one can read Lamar's handwriting again." He was so bored with desk duty. Having something else to do might be good for him. "You don't have to do anything."

Not likely. She was fairly certain she would be the one to make up a bed, to think about things to do with a teenage girl on the weekend and so forth. "That's not the problem. It's just that this is a bit surprising."

"She's my niece, Liv" he implored, and he had her at that, appealing to that sense of family responsibility. Just when she thought she had him figured out…

"Okay. If she wants to stay here, that's fine by me, I just really think you should find out what's going on with them first. Run it by Jessica, see what she thinks."

"Of course. If Jess says no, it's off the table. But Reah came to me, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it, I really do."


	21. Googling

"You got anything else with you?" she asked the girl, taking a glance at the small bag she was carrying over her shoulder.

"No, that's all." Reah smiled, clutching it a little more tightly.

"A light packer. Good."

Brian had picked up his niece from the train station after work. She followed him into the apartment slowly, looking around before stopping abruptly and taking off her shoes.

"Oh, you don't need to do that" Olivia said, noticing that Reah had been barefoot in her ballerinas and was wearing nothing but leggings, a sweater and a light fake leather jacket, all of which was completely inappropriate for the season. "Do you want some socks?"

"No, thank you." The teenager turned on the spot and looked up at the high ceiling, visibly impressed.

"Pretty cool, eh?" Brian asked.

"Way better than your last place. It's big. Did you get rich?" Clearly, she wasn't shy. There was some sass there.

He grinned. "Ha! Adorable. Go ahead and work in public service for twenty years, that'll answer that question for you." They actually weren't too badly off, with both of them working for many years without interruption and no one to lend financial support to. They could afford to be spending their money on themselves, although Brian was sometimes a little touchy about the fact that she earned more than he did, no matter how many times she told him it didn't matter.

"Cool view" Reah commented, running her hand over the back of the sofa as she approached the large window front to look down.

"Yeah. We'll make up the sofa for you later, just haven't gotten around to it yet" Olivia explained. "It's actually pretty comfy."

"Thanks." She was still gazing down at the street mesmerized.

Brian and Olivia exchanged a glance. What was the protocol on what to do next? She had actually found herself googling "things to do with teenagers in NYC" a couple of nights ago. The problem being, of course, that most sites that had come up had suggested the usual tourist activities, not regular "what do you do with a teenager you don't really know too well" kind of activities. Brian had suddenly seemed to believe that museums were a good idea after all. She had talked him out of it, unless it was something his niece actually wanted to do. "

We were going to cook tonight, but it's getting kind of late" he said. Once again, they had both of them gotten out of work far later than expected. "So, anyone up for ordering in some pizza? You like pizza, right?"

"Love pizza. Mom hates it." Great. It was the first time a member of his family came to visit, and they were going to order pizza of all things. They had really been trying to cut down on their take-out consumption and prepare healthy meals. Well, actually, she had been working on that for years.

"Oh yeah, she always did." Brian sat down on the sofa, leaning back and yawning.

Olivia went to grab the take-out menus from the kitchen drawer. "So, Reah, any thoughts on what you'd like to go and do tomorrow? We're supposed to get icy rain, so outdoor things could be tricky, but besides that…"

The girl turned around, leaning against the windowsill. "I don't know. What do you guys normally do on weekends?"

Good question. What did they normally do, besides their recent road trip? Work, in her case, at least in the past few weeks. Other than that? Housework, exercising, opening letters and paying bills, sitting around on the sofa exhausted, Central Park, maybe going out for dinner every once in a while although they hadn't really been doing much of that. She suddenly felt like they should really get a common hobby, something they both enjoyed doing as a couple. "Uh, not much. We could just go out and explore the city a little. Look at stores, see some sights…is there no place you really want to visit?"

"Well…" Reah hesitated. "I kind of like going to M&M's World. Can we stop by there?"

"Candy?" Brian laughed. "Really? That's your number one thing to do in the city?"

"It's cute!" she exclaimed defensively. "But we don't have to go there-"

"Sure, we can swing by" Olivia agreed, relieved that entertaining this girl seemed to be as simple as this. So much for museums. This was easier than expected.


	22. Saturday

"Do you think I should have bought the red shirt, Olivia?" It was the first time Reah had asked her opinion on something, even if it was with a four hour delay. They had spent a wonderful day shopping and walking around to look at some of the filming locations for their favourite TV shows. It had been enough to make her regret the fact that she had to go into work tomorrow as they were trying to wrap up a case.

"It's too late now" Olivia shrugged, continuing to chop her carrots.

"But did it look good?"

"It looked fine on you. Not sure if it was worth spending your money on though."

"Do you think it clashed with my hair? I can never tell." The girl put down her knife, clearly preoccupied with the question.

Brian chuckled. "How can a shirt clash with your hair?"

"You wouldn't understand" Reah replied dramatically.

"True. By the way, some of yours do." She threw her boyfriend a mischievous smile.

"What? That's crazy. Guess I'll have to go out and buy more."

"Oh no, you don't!" He was one of the few men she knew who did not have an issue with shopping for hours. She was glad they had been able to leave him behind at the Apple store when Reah had insisted on a lengthy trip to H&M. "Here, make yourself useful." She handed him the ladle.

He reluctantly approached the big pot and stirred. "I've told you, you don't actually need to add the broth spoon by spoon; risotto works fine if you chuck it in all at once."

She shook her head. "It doesn't reach the same texture."

"Isn't risotto just fancy rice?" Reah asked, having resumed her half-hearted slicing of the spring onions.

"Thank you." Her uncle gave her a thumbs up, adding another ladle full of broth to the pot.

"It's creamier if you prepare it right. Can we just do it by the book, please? I've wanted to try this recipe for a while."

"Fine."

"Nat is useless at cooking" the teenager commented.

"He's only seven" Brian replied. "Plenty of time to grow into a chef."

"So? It's annoying."

"Do you cook for you guys a lot?" Olivia asked.

"Just when Mom works late. I'm supposed to watch him after school, but he can be such a little brat, especially if I have friends over."

"Does she have to work late a lot of days?"

"Not all the time. Just if her boss decides to be an ass."

Olivia looked at Brian, noticing the concern in his frown. This sounded like a substantial amount of responsibility for the 14-year-old, and she could certainly understand the frustration that came with it. The last thing you wanted to do after school was to look after an annoying little brother. On the other hand, as a single mom Jessica probably didn't have an alternative, and she was clearly trying so hard to look after her kids and provide for them.

"I thought you had basketball practice after school?" Brian asked.

"Not anymore."

"The season's finished already?"

"Nope. Got kicked out." Suddenly, her spring onions seemed to be very interesting. Behind the tough façade, there was a sadness in the way she squeezed her lips together.

"How come?"

"Skipped school."

"Why?"

"It was boring."

"Did something happen there?"

"No. I just don't care."

"Reah…"He sighed, leaning against the counter beside her. "Is that why you've been fighting with your mom? Look, I get that school sucks sometimes. But you just have to put up with that for a few more years. There's no way out of it. Then, when you graduate, you can do whatever you want."

"What I want is to not go to school."

"But, you know, the only one who gets hurt that way is you" Olivia explained. "Not your mom, not your teachers, not Nathaniel. If you finish school, you can move out and get a job. You can do your own thing." She hoped she was hitting the mark here. Whatever short-sighted decisions this girl was making now would affect her entire future. "Without a high school certificate, that's pretty damn hard."

Reah rolled her eyes. "You guys sound like Mom."

"Hey, you have to take this stuff seriously" Brian repeated. "What did you skip school for, anyway?"

"Nothing! Can we please stop talking about it?"

"Fine" he gave in, unable to resist her pleading. "Anyway, have you done your homework yet?"

"Argh" she groaned, crossing her arms. "On the train last night. Wanna check my notebook, too?"

"Maybe I should."

They were interrupted by some Rihanna song blasting out of the girl's bag. She rushed to answer the phone, but by the time she managed to dig it out from under what looked like a million unnecessary things to be carrying in a purse, the ringtone had stopped. "Sorry, gotta make a call."

"Who was it?"

"None of your business." She went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Brian looked at her incredulously. "What the hell just happened?"

"I think that's what we call an argument" she stated the obvious, taking over the stirring of the risotto. "Let her cool off for a moment." It wouldn't be good to end a pleasant day on a bad note, and either way, dinner would be finished soon, probably drawing her back.

"She used to be such a sweet kid."

"She's growing up, honey."


	23. Lost

"I don't want Rollins going out on this alone, is that clear?" she stated in her best command mode. She needed to get through to Nick on this and put an end to this argument.

"Liv, come on, it's a regular subway flasher, I think she can handle it. Just send an officer."

"It's not about that." She had been keeping an eye on Amanda and her alternations between showing up late for work in various states of fatigue and caffeine highs and clocking countless hours of overtime. She had tried talking to her about it more than once, but with little effect. Something wasn't right; there had been friction between her and the others, but of course, no one would tell her a thing about what was going on. It was the same blue line crap she and Elliot had pulled a million times in the old days, but she certainly didn't like being on the other side of it, not when she was trying to help.

"All right, I'll go with her."

"No" she told him firmly. "I already sent Fin."

"Fin?! He's supposed to be finishing up witness interviews for the Rickons case."

"Well, he's on this case now." She didn't like jerking them around like that, but Nick and Amanda teaming up just didn't seem like a good idea right now. Fin was calmer, more experienced and better at keeping her in check. And, once again, she realised she was short-staffed. There had been too much fluctuation this year, and being called into work on a Sunday wasn't boosting morale. "I'll take some of the witness interviews while you finish up your paperwork. I need that file."

"Got my orders, Sergeant" he confirmed in a passive-aggressive way, walking out of her office. Sometimes, she wasn't sure who was harder to handle, him or Amanda. The fact that he had been her partner for well over two years somehow made it difficult for her to be firm with him.

She sat down at her desk, opening the file to look at the witness list. She had barely begun screening the names and relationships to the victim when her phone rang. She glanced down at the display, seeing Brian's face appear. Bad timing, as usual when he called her at work. "Hey, what's up?" She did her best to sound friendly.

"Reah's gone" he stated bluntly.

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I can't find her. I got called into work earlier, and when I got back, she wasn't there anymore."

"You left her alone?" Typical, of course they both had to be called into work on the same day.

"It was only going to be a couple of hours; I didn't think she needed a babysitter" he snapped defensively.

"You've called her?"

"She's not answering her phone. I left her a message. She didn't leave a hint on where she was going. Called Jessica, too, she hasn't heard from her. Shit! I shouldn't have left her. She wanted to come with me and see where I work, but I didn't think it was a good idea."

She needed to calm him down and get him to focus. "Brian, does she have any friends who live in the city?"

"I don't know…" He sounded panicked and she could hear from the background noise that he was rummaging through something, looking for something.

"Call Jessica and find out."

"Yeah. I have to go out and find her."

"With no idea where to start?" The least useful thing to do would be to run around the city aimlessly; he had to realise that. Reah, too, knew that she had to get on the train home by this evening. "Can you think of any places she mentioned?" She was racking her own brain, trying to remember their casual conversations from the day before, any hint the teenager might have dropped.

"The H&M store?"

"Possible" she agreed, although she somehow didn't think it very likely.

"I'll go and look."

"I think it's better if someone stays home in case she shows up" she suggested, weighing her options. Chances were that Reah had simply gotten bored sitting at home alone and gone out to try and have some fun, that she was perfectly fine and would return in time. So she should be staying here and carry on with her witness interviews. On the other hand, she had no idea what kind of "fun" Reah might have got into, and there was no way she could take chances with the girl's safety, especially with Brian and the girl's mother worrying.

"I can't just stay home and do nothing! She could be in trouble!"

"Or she could have just gone out to visit a friend or explore a bit" she tried to de-catastrophise.

"She gets into trouble! Jess told me, okay, this isn't the first time she's done this. Damn her, why does she only mention this now-"

"Talk to her again, find out anything you can about who her friends are, what she likes to do, you know the deal. I'm on my way." She grabbed her coat and left the office, mouthing "family emergency" at Nick in passing and giving him an apologetic look.


	24. Found

"You can never, ever do something like this again, do you understand me?" he insisted with unusual firmness. Olivia had rarely seen him this angry before, and he was instrumentalising it to make his niece listen to him.

"Yes" she answered meekly, looking down at her cup of tea. "I'm sorry."

They had sat down at the table to talk things over with Reah, after she had called them back at last and told them where she was. They had spent the past hour trying to find her and speaking to her best friend on the phone, who had finally, after some persuasion, told them that Reah had a boyfriend who occasionally spent the weekend in the city with his dad. They had picked her up near Lincoln Center, incredibly relieved to see that she was just fine. By now, relief had made way for irritation over the nerve wrecking search.

"We were really worried about you" Olivia stressed. "We had no way of knowing where you'd gone, if something had happened, when you'd be back. Your mom was worried, too." They had called her instantly when they knew her daughter was all right, and she had insisted on speaking to her as soon as she was back, telling them to send her straight home to her. "You can't just take off without telling anyone."

"You called Mom?" She grimaced.

"We had to. We were trying to find you. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I wasn't paying attention. I just didn't think- I thought you were at work, and I would have come back in time. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal with disappearing to wander around the city? Are you serious?" Brian asked. "I don't know what kind of stunts you usually pull, kid, but you can't just take off without notice when you're visiting someone. Messed up things happen all the time."

"You only think that because you're a cop."

"That's exactly the reason I know what can happen." Were they reacting in a hypersensitive way because of the nature of their work? Probably. Did terrible things happen to young girls who were only going out to look for a good time? All the time.

"It's not like I crashed a party or got drunk!"

"Well, if you put it like that, I guess that makes it okay!"

"So this Manuel you were meeting, he's your boyfriend?" Olivia asked, trying to move away from the "you did" – "I didn't" confrontation.

"Yeah. I can't believe Megan told you about that."

"She was right to do it" she replied quickly, putting her hand on Brian's arm as she could sense a sharp retort coming. "Also, we kind of made her tell."

Reah ran her hand through her hair, de-tangling it absent-mindedly. She obviously did not want to have this conversation.

"How long have you two been going out?"

"Sixteen-and-a-half weeks" she told them in the precise manner that indicated that nearly four months was still a lifetime for her in the dating world.

"That's a while. Is he from your high school?"

"No. He's not one of those losers."

"Different school?"

"He's not in school anymore."

Uh-oh. "Reah, how old is Manuel?"

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen?" A "wow" slipped out of her at the same time as Brian exclaimed "He's five years older than you?"

"Why is everyone so bothered by that? Dad was, like, eight years older than Mom."

"It's different when you're older" Olivia remarked. "Five years at your age is a lot."

"I'm not some little kid, okay? Manu has a job and everything."

"So his responsibilities, his life is very different from yours."

"You don't even know him!" Reah crossed her arms in front of her, leaning back in her chair. "No one wants to get to know him, either. You guys are hypocrites, you and Mom, you just don't like him because he's not some college prep, except you can't say that because it would make you racist, so you say he's too old."

"C'mon, you know that's bullshit" Brian answered. "I don't care if he's in the Ivy League, he's nineteen. He's an adult." Well, more or less, one would hope.

"And I'm not a child, but I guess that doesn't matter to you." She got up from the table and stormed out of the room yet again, retreating to the only place she could, the bathroom.

"Reah!" He got up, but it was too late, she had locked the door. "Damn it."

"Give her a minute."

"So that's what Jessica was worried about. I need to talk to her- we have to do something."

"Do what?"A stormy overreaction was hardly the most useful measure right now.

"She's fourteen!" He rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, and she seems pretty serious about him."

"So? Liv, that's second degree statutory rape!"

As if she didn't know. "We don't know that they are having sex."

"We have to do something!"

"I'm not sure what we can do that would really help her" she responded, pondering their options. "The more you tell her she can't go out with him, the more she'll want him. Romeo and Juliet effect."

"Yeah, well, that didn't end too well for Romeo and Juliet. She'll get over it."

"She's in a volatile place right now. He might not be the cause of the problems, he could be a stabilizing factor. When I was that age, I would have done anything for my boyfriend."

"Even more of a reason to keep them apart." A naïve suggestion, as he had to know very well.

"Let me talk to Reah alone so she doesn't feel like we're ganging up on her. If we do something rash now, she'll only take off again."

"Okay. I think you're better with this girl stuff anyway" he said grimly, pulling out his phone and looking something up. "I need to grab something from the store quickly and call Jess. I'll be back in a bit."

She took her time watching him leave and finishing her tea before gently knocking on the bathroom door. "Reah?" No answer. "May I come in? I'd like to talk to you."She waited a moment, giving the girl time to consider without exerting more pressure. Girls could be so touchy about these things and quick to take an antagonistic stance. Eventually, she could hear the door unlocking. "Thank you." She slowly opened it, only to find Reah sitting on the bathroom floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, leaning against the bathtub. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying anymore. "Would you like to come out? Brian's out at the moment." The teenager shook her head. "All right. Mind if I sit down?"As her answer to this was an indifferent shrug, Olivia lowered herself on the floor next to her, facing the open door. She had never seen their apartment from this angle before. Good thing they had just cleaned the floor.

She considered her words carefully, selecting how much information she wanted to share. "You know, I had an older boyfriend when I was in high school. He was in college. He meant a lot to me."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"What was his name?"

"Daniel. Dan." She hadn't thought about Dan in a long time. Dan, her perfect grown-up escape plan from taking care of her mother. It would be nice to know what became of him.

"Why did you break up?" Reah was watching her intently now, and she knew that her interest had been piqued.

"It just didn't work out. He graduated and left, and I…stayed." She could remember that day clearly, the day he had given up on their plan to hitchhike across the country to take a job in Boston, asking her to come with him. She had said no despite their engagement. It wouldn't have worked out.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"I was scared. But, looking back on it, I'm glad I didn't, because I got to finish high school, and go to college, and find a job I love. All that wouldn't have happened with him. I got to be my own person first, before being so serious with someone." She didn't know if that last part would make sense to Reah, but it might one day.

The girl thought about this for a moment. "Manu doesn't want me to give up school or anything like that."

"That's good. You care about him a lot, don't you?"

"I love him" she confessed in complete seriousness. "He's sweet, and super nice, and he's not a jerk like most of the guys at school. He listens and he thinks I'm smart…"

Olivia could certainly understand the appeal there. Who wouldn't want to be cared for, taken seriously and made to feel special by an older boy? "Sounds serious."

"He is. We are. Why is that so bad?"

"It's not bad that you feel that way about him, it's just that since he's older, he's likely to want a lot from this relationship."

"But I want a lot."

"I get that, honey" she acknowledged, looking at Reah with a smile. "But you also need some time-"

"Time for what?"

"Being with an older boy can sometimes make you want to do things for him that you're not feeling ready for."

Reah shifted awkwardly at that. "You mean sex."

"Yes."

"He doesn't want to do it. He's scared of getting in trouble."

"Well, he's right about that. He could go to prison." It wasn't likely with the five-year age gap even if her mother complained while she was still fourteen, but it could happen. "But it's not just a legal issue. If you have sex when you're not ready…it can hurt, and it can really make you feel vulnerable and used, and afraid of being with that person or another person." She pushed aside the memory of her own, awkward, hurried first time in the back of a car. "Someone who really loves you will respect that boundary, and won't pressure you or leave you if you don't want to do it."

"He doesn't." Reah was looking down at her nails, picking at the blue nailpolish. "Like I said, _he_ doesn't want to. It's just Mom who's freaking out over it."

Somehow, Olivia doubted that Reah actually knew what she wanted at the moment, and she was relieved to hear that this Manuel at least had the sense to look out for his own safety. "She's worried about you. Can you blame her for that?"

"Yeah, well, she's really one to talk." Anger flashed up in her face again. "Not the best person to be giving dating advice."

She once again noticed the derision whenever the girl spoke of her mother, the parent who had stuck around. "Because of your dad?"

"Because she's weak. She let Dad treat her like shit for years, and even now, she sticks up for him in front of Nat."

"Maybe she wants to protect him."

"She's not protecting anyone. Nat is not an idiot." Her voice was hard as stone. "You know, he just used to run to his room and cry like a baby all the time. He never stuck up for her, and she protects him?"

"Unlike you?"

"I can take care of myself. But I was the only one who ever stood between her and Dad, the only one who told Dad straight up if he was being an asshole. And then, suddenly, it would be them teaming up against me, and she'd say I was provoking him. Because I guess it was okay for him to call her a stupid bitch and a whore, but it's not okay for me to call him out on being the asshole he is." Tears came to her eyes, and she brushed them away angrily. "And she'd cry and cry and cry over it, like 'oh no, what am I gonna do, what did I do wrong', and he'd do it again, find something no matter what she did, and it never ended, him yelling at her and her crying. And then she lets _him_ leave _her_? I would have kicked him out; I would have burned his stuff if she'd let me!"

Olivia put a hand on Reah's upper back, carefully watching for non-verbal cues of discomfort with it. But the girl was in her own world, going over the emotional abuse in her memory again.

"I hate him so much." She clenched her fists, taking shallow breaths to fight for control. "I'll never be like that. Never."

"I'm sorry, Reah. That must have been so hard for you." She recognized that need to be the strong one, the parent, to make yourself invulnerable.

"No!" Reah replied furiously. "I'm just glad it's over, is all. I don't care."

"None of that was your fault. I think you've been really strong, honestly, but you couldn't have done anything to stop it."

"I k- know." She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them, and eventually, her body was starting to shake with half-suppressed sobs.

Olivia put her arm around Reah's shoulders, allowing her the time to cry.


	25. Postponing

She was half sitting, half lying on the sofa with her knees drawn up, the case file open on her legs. Reading through the witness interviews, it became clear that a piece of the puzzle was missing. There was something they were overlooking, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. There were some questions Nick hadn't asked the victim's brother, and others that he had worded differently than she would have done. _Not necessarily with a better result_, she reminded herself. It was always easier to think of a different approach after the fact.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by footsteps approaching. "Hey, babe."

She didn't look up, still trying to concentrate on the sheets in front of her. "Hm-mh."

"It's almost midnight." She knew he wasn't simply trying to state the time, but that it was a prompt.

"Uh-huh." Was it? In that case, he had left her alone for the past couple of hours ever since she had come home and told him she still had some more work to catch up on.

"That file's still going to be here tomorrow. Maybe you want to catch some sleep?"

"In a little while. Go ahead, I'll try not to wake you up."

"Okay." He wasn't leaving. Instead, he came around and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Great. There went her focus. "But it could be easier to see new information after a good night's rest."

He did have a point there. Sometimes, as much as she hated doing it while she was immersed in the moment, she needed him to coax her into putting down her work and ignoring her to-do list of 101 things. But this wasn't one of those nights. She looked up from her file. "Brian, we're close to a breakthrough in this case. There's just some detail we're missing, something I have to find."

"I get it. It's just…you haven't been sleeping a lot. And with everything that happened today, maybe a break would be good. I'm worried."

"I'm fine" she said, making herself smile at him. "I just took a break yesterday, remember?"

"There are other people working on this case" he stated, ignoring her counter-argument. "Why does it always have to be you taking paperwork home on a Sunday to go over everything again? It's like there's not enough hours in the day."

There weren't enough hours in the day for her job, that was the problem. "Because I'm in charge." They had been over this before. Their relationship, her entire fragile work-life balance, had changed once she had been promoted. Brian had accepted that, especially as he had hardly ever been home himself to notice. Now, being on desk duty, he noticed.

"I know. But doesn't that come with delegating? I mean, you're not just assigning or checking their work, it's like you're re-doing it as well."

She didn't like it when he tried to tell her how to do her job, even if it was out of concern. "It comes with managing so you get the best possible outcome. Sometimes, I'm busy with admin stuff at work, other times, I do some of the legwork, then I try to review the paperwork but I'm constantly interrupted by people wanting things…I can't avoid taking things home sometimes, because it's the only place I can work without interruption."

"But you can't do everything – management and the field work."

"I'm not ready to just sit behind a desk." She had told him this before, too. This repeated discussion was irritating her. She simply wanted to get back to her file, and if he had just let her do it, she might have finished by now.

"Yeah, but…you have a life outside work, too. Saturday was nice, you know. A nice change."

"It was." She softened a bit when she saw the disappointment in his face. "We should do it again sometime. Did Reah get back okay?"

"Yeah, she called me earlier. She's grounded and not happy about it, but she's back. I talked to Jess for a bit, too."

"Good."

"You know, whatever you said to Reah seems to have made an impression. Thanks for…sorting through my family mess."

"She just hasn't had an easy time with her parents' separation. She's looking for love and acceptance, that's all. That boyfriend actually doesn't sound so bad, although I do think someone should keep an eye on that."

"Yeah. But Jess is up to here with everything." He made an explanatory gesture, holding up his flat hand to his forehead. "I think she should get help."

"They'll figure it out. And they have you, Uncle Brian." She nudged him with her foot.

"Lucky them" he replied sarcastically.

"How are things with you?" she asked seriously, taking advantage of the fact that he obviously wanted to talk to her, no matter how inconvenient the time. "Your sessions?"

"Fine" he answered, giving her the usual response of no informational content.

"You like the guy?"

"He's all right."He had taken some issue with the first, female therapist the department had sent him to, and chosen his own instead. She had a feeling that Brian would have an easier time opening up to someone he perceived as tough, and it was definitely a better idea to do this with someone who wouldn't be involved in his re-evaluation. "I just can't wait to get back in the field." He sighed. "But Martinez thinks I need to learn stress management and coping skills first. Like I never had to manage stress while I was UC…"

"Can't hurt, can it?"

"Guess not. Anyway…" He pushed himself up from the sofa. "You sure you're not coming to bed?"

"Not just yet."

"Okay." He gave up, squeezing her shoulder in passing. "Good night."


	26. Bargaining

"I'm sick of winter" she remarked, gazing at the swirl of snowflakes outside the window. It was supposed to be spring. After all the snow they had got this year, it didn't seem fair to still have more at this point. Enough was enough.

"Not a fan of the season?" Dr. Lindstrom responded, keeping the tone light. She was glad he didn't immediately delve into a deep conversation or jump to the conclusion seasonal affective disorder.

"I don't mind it in general. But it's time for this winter to be done." She was fed up with being cold, fed up with wearing layer upon layer and having to heat her apartment for ages before she felt comfortable when she got home.

"I completely agree." He occasionally threw in some personal opinions on things, presumably to make himself more transparent and human. "So what's going on? Bad week?"

"Not particularly. Work's been stressful. One of my detectives is in major trouble and I'm not sure how to help her – it's the kind of situation where it's almost too late to help and I wish I'd been able to do something sooner. I want to help her, but I have to do the right thing for the precinct. And I can't discuss it with any superiors because that would make things worse for her. And I can't say anything about it in front of Brian, because Brian works in IA. So…that's that." She paused, looking at him.

"Sounds like a difficult situation. Is that what you want to talk about?"

"No" she decided. It was pointless; he couldn't come up with a magical suggestion that would make things right for everyone, because she knew in her gut that this type of solution didn't exist for this situation. He would only empathise and give her the usual speech about how she couldn't save the entire world.

Dr. Lindstrom let the pause rest again, waiting for her to pick a subject, any subject. He was really good at silence. Just for once, she would like to sit here and not say anything, just to see how long he could stick it out. But that would be a waste of time and money. There were a million things she could have talked about, but her irritation was too broad, too diffuse to formulate in a concrete manner. Right now, she was fed up with even sitting here.

After what seemed like minutes, he finally gave up. "Last time, I remember you were quite happy. You talked about reconnecting with your brother, seeing your niece and stepnephew, meeting Brian's family. You mentioned certain doubts regarding his not wanting children, but in general, you said your relationship had improved."

"Yes." That pretty much summed it up. "And his niece came to stay with us for a couple of days. It was nice, but…"

"But?"

She hesitated. The words seemed ungrateful and selfish to say. "It feels like I'm acting a part."

"How so?"

"Always. I'm acting a part, whether it's Sergeant Benson or girlfriend or whatever. And sometimes, it feels real, but it's like I'm always waiting for the next blow. Things will go well for a while, but then something, some stupid thing will mess everything up. And I've tried what you said, you know, about taking it day by day, and so I always think 'great, wow, I actually woke up at a normal hour today', but then by the time I make coffee, some tiny thing, a noise or a smell, will trigger a memory. I'll think 'if I can just get on this subway without getting freaked out by this crowd of people, I'm not doing avoidance, I'm okay'. But it never is, because then, the next thing might go wrong, or the thing after that. And I'm tired of thinking about it. I just want a normal life."

"What would a normal life look like?"

"I'm not talking about normal like before, because I know things will never be the same, and in any case, it's not like I had a perfect life before." She crossed her arms. "Normal…normal just means not so fragile. Not full of- not where everything matters so much and you have to watch every step so carefully. Steady. Going somewhere. And no flashbacks or intrusive thoughts, of course. Is that asking so much?" She knew that, in her situation, it was asking a lot. She should be content with what she had, content with surviving and thriving and not being alone.

"I think it's a very natural desire. But what I hear is that you're constantly evaluating your own well-being according to external markers: 'I'm okay if I can get on this train', 'I'm okay because I slept last night'. You say you are feeling disconnected, and it's as if you're testing yourself. Is that right?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds pretty exhausting to me, trying to be in the moment while evaluating the moment. Just out of curiosity: What would be the pass mark for this test?"

"The what?" She thought she knew what he was getting at, the counterproductive self-criticism and rumination on details, but that sure was a weird way of putting it. They had talked about it before, the need to critically engage with this internal monologue of being a "damaged person".

"When are you 'normal enough'?"

She thought about this question for a moment, and there was only one answer if she was being honest. "When everything goes exactly as it should."

"That's a pretty high threshold."

He was right. She looked out the window, watching the snowflakes continue their endless swirl. "I wanted to start over" she said quietly, after a pause. "With Brian. New apartment, new life. I guess it was a stupid idea."

"Not stupid" he replied. His tone had shifted to a gentler register. "After everything you've been through, I'd call it 'brave'."

"Things are better than they were" she acknowledged, more for her therapist's sake than her own because she hated being such a negative client. "It's just that I wish I had another try, without the baggage."

"Maybe it's not so much about starting a new life. Maybe it's about building on the good things you already have in your life."

"How do I do that?"

"Step by step."

Somehow, this instruction lacked precision. She was tired of looking at her life as a piece of Ikea furniture that needed to be put together. "Sometimes, it's easy. The other day, when we- when Brian and I were together, uh, intimate, and I was able to…enjoy it…I thought 'yes, this is it, things can be good again'. I had hope." To her own embarrassment, her vision blurred at this as her eyes turned moist. She clenched her jaw, unable to continue until the moment passed. "And then a couple of days later, he touched my wrist –that's all he did- and I flinched. I couldn't stand it."

"Did it bring something up?"

"Yeah, I mean, obviously. I thought of the tape and- but I don't want to talk about that." She was annoyed; they had reconstructed her trauma narrative, she was supposed to be done with this part. "I know it's a normal reaction with PTSD, I know all that, I can handle it. I am functioning. It's just not having an end in sight…" She trailed off.

"I understand that that must be painful" he said after a moment, "and strenuous, to go through each day like that. But once again, Olivia, I think you are not giving yourself enough credit. Over the past few months, you have recovered from a violent assault, moved in with your partner, returned to work at the same place as before, moved to a new apartment, been promoted, dealt with many other changes including departures of people who were important to you…and you just told me, in the context of something negative, that you were able to take pleasure in physical intimacy again. That in itself is a huge step."

"I know." She was not a helpless victim.

He smiled sympathetically. "Knowing it and feeling it can be two different things."

"Yeah. But Spring always comes in the end, right?"


	27. Learning

She didn't need to look up to feel him staring at her. Doing her best to ignore it, she tried to focus on the figures in front of her, but failed to make sense of the table with his eyes on her. She realized she was re-reading the same column over and over again. "What?"

"Nothing" he answered, averting his gaze.

"Focus" she instructed both of them. She typed some numbers into her calculator, trying to verify her own cost-benefit analysis because it didn't add up.

He sighed, too audibly to be random.

"Brian Cassidy" she warned him. "We said we'd do an hour of efficient work – one hour, that's all. After that, we're free, and we will put down our work no matter what. But that's all on the condition that for this one hour, we concentrate." They were trying a new approach, structuring their time management so they had a fixed window for extra work, while still leaving "me time" or "us time", depending on the day and situation. It was all down to planning. In theory. She had been surprised when Brian had suggested it. It didn't seem like his sort of idea to come up with, and "me time" certainly wasn't his kind of vocabulary. She had gone along with it, for tonight, for his sake.

"Yes, Sarge."

She checked her watch. "Twenty-six minutes down. Almost half time."

"This is pointless" he muttered childishly. "I'm too old for all this studying." Whatever seminar they were making him take now in the name of continuing professional education apparently entailed a practical application test.

"Just get it over with" she said, irritated with the continued talking coming from the other end of the sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how many officers to send to specialist interview training to compensate for my staff shortage. Applying for funds." Non-existent funds that she wouldn't get.

"Math?" He did not sound impressed.

"Yep. Want to trade?"

"No, thanks."

"What are you studying?" she asked, out of politeness rather than genuine interest.

"Legal foundations of the application of deception in investigative work."

Deception, as in "undercover". She tensed at the thought. "Didn't think there were too many legal boundaries." She thought of the woman who had been raped on UC's watch, of Rollins pulling her gun on a pregnant woman, of Brian around prostitutes who were being sexually exploited. It was a dirty business, no use to pretend otherwise.

"That would make studying this stuff a hell of a lot easier." He shuffled the papers in his lap.

"You know, I don't-" she cut herself off. There was no point in getting into this right now, not while she was still upset about the whole thing with Rollins and he was frustrated with being stuck on desk duty. She had promised herself she wouldn't take this stuff home to him anymore. She found herself wondering if it would be better, healthier for both of them, to be dating someone from outside the criminal justice system. At the same time, she couldn't imagine that someone else would understand the way he did.

"Don't what?"

"Sometimes, I don't understand what exactly makes us 'the good guys' anymore" she stated vaguely. "If anything flies, what's the difference?"

From his pause, she could tell he knew what she was really talking about. They had been tense and evasive with each other these past few nights when asking about their respective work days. "I suppose the difference is that we are working towards a goal, doing damage control. Sometimes, a small evil can be necessary to prevent or stop a greater one."

A small evil? What was a small evil? Organised crime wasn't. Rape wasn't. And damn it, they could not discuss this. "So the ends justify the means? That's nothing else than hypocrisy. If they do it, we arrest them, if we do it, it's okay?"

"No. Isn't that kind of the point of IA?" he asked, looking up from his papers.

"Yeah, well." She didn't want to say negative things about the IAB in front of him, not when he was already struggling with it, but the political nature of who would take the fall or not disgusted her.

"I mean in a perfect world, I agree. But the line isn't always so clear. When I was UC for all that time…" He shook his head, staring off into the distance.

"Things get complicated, I get that." She reminisced about her own, briefer time with the environmental terrorist group. It had changed her for good. "But that doesn't mean the line isn't still there."

"Have you never bent the rules to close a case?"

He knew very well she had, and sometimes, it had closed the deal, and other times, the results had been disastrous. "I was always ready to carry the consequences of my actions." Almost. Unless Elliot had covered for her, or she for him. Hearing Fin relate it to that had been the last straw that had really made it hard to lie to him and Nick. Elliot. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what he would have to say about all this.

"And did you?"

"For the most part. Sometimes, Cragen took the real blow. The perks of being in command." The latter comment came out sounding more bitter than intended.

"Yeah. Look…" He hesitated, his eyebrows furrowed. "Watch out for yourself as well."

"I'm in trouble?" she asked, knowing he couldn't say more.

"No, although I doubt I'd hear about it either way. But you are….drawing attention. Tucker's watching."

"I know." She knew he meant well, but hearing it wasn't exactly helpful. It wasn't like she was trying to get into trouble; that was the last thing she needed this year. "But what exactly am I supposed to do different? I'm handling it. I can do this."She hoped, although her mind was plagued by doubts and she lay awake at night struggling over decisions. Had she been too lenient on Amanda, driven by desperate times and too much understanding for the workings of addiction? Was Nick, with his control issues, a ticking time bomb?

Brian raised his hands defensively. "Never said you couldn't."

"It's just that the resource situation makes it damn near impossible to do it well." She looked at her table in frustration, her calculation that came up with nothing but deficits.

"I know" he said, sounding equally exasperated with the topic. "But is it really worth it?"

"Is what worth what?"

"This constant drama. You used to love your job and now…"

"It'll get better." She couldn't let herself think about the alternative, because at the moment, the need to prove herself and make this situation work kept her going. "It has to."

"Hope you're right." He took one last glance at his papers before putting them down on the table. "Sorry, I can't do this tonight. I need a shower."


	28. Returning

She could tell it was good news straight away. He hadn't looked excited like this in a while, and the impatience reflected in how he took the bag of groceries from her, setting it down on the kitchen counter without unpacking, gave it away. But he wouldn't say anything, not until she had put away her coat and focused her attention fully on him. "So?"

"No more shuffling papers" he proclaimed. "I'm officially back on active duty."

"That's great!" She smiled at him, relieved that for once, things were going right in one area. "Finally…I'm happy for you."

"Feels so good."

"I can imagine!" She moved around the counter and wrapped her arm around his back. He pulled her into a one-armed hug. "So everything's in order, paperwork, psych eval and all? That was a quick decision."

He shrugged. "You're not the only one who's short-staffed. Guess they decided not to waste my considerable talents any longer."

"Makes sense." Putting him on desk duty for what had happened in the drug case had been a bit of an overreaction in the first place. He wasn't much of a bureaucrat; field word was clearly his area of expertise. She was glad that being good over the past few weeks had paid off.

"I got assigned a new case about five minutes after they told me. Undercover again."

"Oh." She tried not to ruin his moment by showing her disappointment. He would be happier, back in his element again. But he would be gone. She had grown used to having him around more in the evenings. "Guess they really needed you."

"I'm hard to replace." He started to unpack the bag at last.

She helped him store away the few items she had bought, relieved to see that his confidence –perhaps even cockiness- had returned. "This calls for a celebration."

"We have pasta and…pasta." He pulled out the last item with a frown. "That'll be a feast."

"Sorry, I was in a rush to hear your news." She had only grabbed the most basic necessities at the small corner shop, rather than stopping by the store. Neither of them was much of a cook at the best of times, and things had been so busy these past few days that they were running low on supplies.

"Okay, so pasta and…" He opened the fridge, facing the glaring emptiness inside. "…carrots and beer…"

She sighed. "Take-out?"

"Yep." He opened the drawer to get the menus. It was pretty pathetic that, at their age, they had an actual drawer for take-out menus.

"It's your big day, you pick." She knew he hated making a decision, and it would probably take twice as long this way, but she didn't need to be in charge all day and all evening.

"How…gentlewomanly of you."

She shook her head. "Not a real word."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Or is it a neologism?"

"Touché." She drew him close and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

He pulled back, surprised, and cleared his throat. "Um, you know, I'm actually not that hungry yet…late lunch and all…"

"Me neither." She kissed him again, with more urgency than before, and a familiar longing began to grow inside her. It was a yearning for the sensation of closeness, for a build-up and quick release. As their kisses deepened, they somehow made their way over to the couch, bumping into a chair on the way. They tumbled onto the cushions, all arms and legs and layers of clothing, and what felt good and right one second, was too fast and out of control the next – way too fast for her, too much wanting and entrapment. "Stop" she gasped.

He froze, pulling back his hands the moment he saw the expression on her face. "Liv?"

"Sorry, I can't." Her heart was racing as she somehow managed to extract herself from the embrace, sitting up with her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands.

"Hey, hey…" He sat up as well, confused. "Breathe."

She took a moment to steady her breathing, leaned forward as she was. What the hell had just happened? Damn it, she had ruined it!

"You all right?"

"Yeah…it just went so fast…"

"Sorry." He raised his hand as if to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it, dropping it.

"No, it's not you, it's…I'm sorry. I did want to, I just- we can try again in a minute, I just need-"

"Hey, slow down, it's not a challenge. We're not doing this now, not like this." She could tell he was disappointed, probably most of all by her reaction to him.

But it wasn't him, he needed to understand that. She sat back up, looking at him. "I'm sorry."

"No worries, it's fine." He was trying to appear cooler about this than he actually was. "Stop apologizing."

She scooted closer to him again, covering his hand on his thigh with hers to let him know that it was okay, that she was fine with physical contact and wasn't pushing him away. "Do you think we could just sit here and…" She didn't want to say "cuddle" because it was such a corny word. "Just for a while."

"Sure." He put his arm around her and they leaned back on the sofa, putting their feet up. Her head came to rest close to his heart. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to eat, or move, or sleep, or think. She just wanted to stay here.


	29. Wanting

To pour or not to pour: That was the question. It would be her third –well, third large- glass, which wasn't generally a good idea or something she regularly did on a weekday, but the bottle was already open and there on the table within arm's length. And after all, she wasn't doing any real work, only reading through some new 300 page departmental guidelines that had to have been issued for the pure pleasure of harassing her through eternal boredom. To pour, definitely. She refilled her glass, taking a sip and letting it sink in for a moment. She was finally getting to a good point of light-headedness, that warm, relaxed feeling when the world looked less sharp and clear. She really should have eaten first, but couldn't be bothered with getting up once she had changed into her yoga pants and sweatshirt and settled on the couch, huddled under a blanket. The good part about the warm, hazy feeling was that it made her less sensitive to how much the floor needed a vacuuming. It was Brian's turn, anyway, but as usual, he had forgotten. She had never wanted to be that woman who cleaned up after a man or nagged him into doing his part, so she had decided to test how long it would take until he would notice on his own. A long time, apparently.

She heard the lock turn and the door open and close. The familiar sound of keys and a wallet being laid down on the cupboard, shoes being kicked off, a jacket hung up, always in the same order. He rounded the corner. "Hey, babe."

"Hey yourself." She reached up and grabbed his hand as he walked by behind the sofa, stopping him, and he bent down and gave her a quick peck that ended up somewhere near her eyebrow. She could feel the scratchiness of his five o'clock – okay, more like ten o'clock- shadow. He had seen fresher times.

He glanced at the bottle and glass on the table. "Drinking alone?"

"Self-medicating to make it through this work of beauty" she gestured at the manual in her lap and took another, deliberate sip of wine.

He smirked slightly. "Might want to slow down there."

"It's late."

She drew up her legs a little further so he could sit down at the other end of the couch. He moved the blanket to the side and plopped down, putting his hand on her knee. "What are you reading?"

"One P.P.'s guidelines on public relations."

"Exciting."

"Very. How was your day?"

"Long. A waste of time, since I didn't make much progress. And Tucker's all over me, like he's waiting for me to mess up again."

"He's such an asshole" she replied in her state of alcohol-fuelled honesty. Tucker had put Brian's life on the line more than once. It was hard to shake a certain uneasiness over that.

"But he has the upper hand. Anyway, let's not talk about Tucker. How was your day?"

"Fine, I…" This was not a good time or way to bring it up. Not good at all. "I went to check on that baby boy again. You know, the one from the child pornography case." She had told him the story.

"Ah. Where no one ever came forward?"

"Yes."

"What happened to him?"

"Foster care" she explained. It hurt to say the words. "They keep moving him dependent on availability, and no one seems to have a long-term plan. He's still awaiting permanent placement. I've talked to three different case workers since they took him, and they're basically just glad if they can store him away somewhere for a while." He deserved better. He deserved a loving home, somewhere he could stay forever, where he would be the centre of attention rather than a nuisance. He deserved to be wanted.

"That's sad." He circled her knee with his thumb.

"Yeah. No one wanted him, and now they won't even give him up for adoption because his status is undetermined. But they won't determine his status, either. I've tried tracking down any family connection, anything at all so they can at least record it, but there was no papertrail."

"You're very invested in this case."

"Yeah." She remembered what it had felt like to hold him in her arms, a tactile memory of softness. "When I found him, it just…no one wants him…no one, except…"

He shifted his position uncomfortably. "Except?"

"Except?"

"Except I do" she told him quietly, carefully watching his reaction.

"Oh." Not much of a reaction at all. "You want to adopt a baby you rescued from a crazy couple who produced child porn?"

When he put it like that, it did sound crazy, like she lacked all sorts of professional boundaries. But this wasn't just any stray child from a sad case that she spontaneously wanted to take home. This was different, entirely different from the kind of bond she formed with the children she worked with. She had thought this through. "Yes. Now whether they'd allow it, that's a different matter, but I'd like to apply."

"And you didn't think it would be, you know, good to talk to me before you make up your mind to adopt a child?"

"I'm talking to you now, Bri. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" He looked utterly overwhelmed. "I come home from work and you've basically decided to adopt a child. I think I just got my job back, where I'm UC half the time, I think you just got placed in charge and we're hardly home at the same time, I think we just moved in together a few months ago and things haven't exactly been all sunny and happy…I think we just had this conversation the other day."

"You think you don't want to adopt a child with me" she summed it up. It wasn't surprising, but it stung nonetheless. There was only one possible outcome for this situation, she realized. She hadn't been aware of it herself until she had brought up the subject, of the all-or-nothingness of it. She would have to choose between Brian and having a child. She couldn't have both. One big part of her happiness would be cut away, one way or another. It would be different if she were comparing the abstract concept of a child to the very real, flesh and blood boyfriend she had. But this child wasn't an abstract concept. It was real.

"No, it's not the 'with you' part that's the problem. I'd happily grow old with you. But I don't want kids. I'm sorry." He was holding the blanket, letting it slip through his fingers absent-mindedly.

And so, she asked the question she had been delaying and pushing away. "Not now, or not ever? I need to know."

He looked at her, and the regret and desolation in his eyes gave away the answer.

"Okay." She failed to hide the slight shakiness in her voice. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing what needed to come next.

"I don't want to lose you. But I can't…I can't do that, a house in the suburbs, Sunday baseball games, working nine to five-"

"I never said I wanted any of these things" she said bitterly.

"And I can't be the guy you gave up having kids for."

He was voicing her thought, and she knew deep down that he was right. But she didn't want him to be. "I think that should be my decision."

He shook his head. "You should have a child if that's what you really want."

She swallowed. "I do."

"So…that's it then? It's over?"

"Yes."


	30. Suspended

She was walking again, preferring it over the rush hour public transport. She needed to clear her head. There was no time for a trip to the gym, so this would have to do. She usually left Dr. Lindstrom's office with a calm, relieved yet all talked out and exhausted feeling. But exhaustion and restlessness definitely took precedence today. Feeling the icy wind on her face as she walked between the high rise buildings, being caught up in the anonymity of the city, helped somehow. She stopped to drop the spare change in her pocket into an elderly homeless man's paper cup. The system was failing all over.

She was supposed to feel relief, now that everything had been decided, now that she had talked it over and sorted it out in her head, but there was nothing but confusion and disbelief. This couldn't be where the story ended. Brian and her, that whole "got a second chance after twelve years" thing, that inevitable "not looking for Mr. Right" romance, couldn't end in a five minute break-up. What hurt her most was Brian's willingness to just give up on them, just like that. How quickly he had accepted that she wanted a child, he didn't, and that was it. There hadn't even been a real argument about it. She needed to have that argument, if nothing else.

After telling Lindstrom about the break-up and how it had been a long time coming, she had wanted to think about possible reasons for Brian's behaviour and wish not to have children, but her therapist had made it pretty clear that there was no way to really do that without Brian's perspective. (Once again, here was his tendency to not tell her what to do but push her towards open communication in her relationship, anyway.)

Instead, they had explored her reasons for wanting a child generally, and wanting to adopt this baby in particular. People had mixed motivations for having children, Lindstrom had said. Wanting a purpose in life, wanting to "live on" through someone else, wanting emotional comfort, wanting to have done all the things a woman was "supposed to" do, fun and enjoyment, wanting to feel young again, wanting to "give" a better childhood than you had experienced yourself, wanting to have another person to care for,… She knew that. She had struggled with this herself for years, wanting a child but not wanting to want a child for selfish reasons and not wanting to make the child parent her in some way. But it seemed like there was no truly, entirely non-selfish reason to want a child. And the child definitely didn't get a say in the decision. Yet these were luxury problems, when you looked at all the unwanted children who didn't even get to star in someone else's selfish dream of fulfillment.

So why this baby? Why now? What about professional boundaries? She couldn't quite pinpoint it. It was a feeling, more than anything, a yearning for "that life" combined with the heartbreak of this little boy being unwanted. It was the pressure of this somehow being her last chance, and the wish to be a mother, to give something to one child in her personal life, rather than just trying to fix broken situations in her job. And maybe, yes, maybe Lindstrom was right and it could have something to do with everything that had happened, with wanting to shift her focus on to something else, something healthy, wanting to mend things by having a family. Except it didn't look like that would work out, because she knew that on her own and in her situation, she had few chances of being allowed to foster, let alone adopt, a child. _Socially isolated._ She dreaded the rejection.

And then, there was Brian. Although he had been staying who knew where since their conversation, completely out of her way, she didn't actually miss him yet. She couldn't, because what had happened between them simply didn't feel real. The problem wasn't that they had disagreed about something, the problem wasn't even that he didn't want to adopt this baby right now, the problem was that he couldn't even see a possible future in that direction. With him, there was no future. They were just living in the moment, two adults in their 40s living in one apartment, sharing their days –sometimes as lovers, more often as roommates of late- living their separate lives together in the moment. And she had always thought that was enough, that she was incredibly lucky to even have that, to have it through the abduction aftermath, through the trial and PTSD, to have the comfort without having her boundaries pushed. But it wasn't. Suddenly, she needed a plan, some kind of perspective, and that tended to make relationships complicated. She missed the simple days of just being happy waking up in his arms or coming home to find someone already there.

She pulled out her phone and opened her favourite contacts, touching his name and putting the phone to her ear. She turned away from the wind, shielding it with her gloved hand as much as possible. It beeped in the familiar way. _Come on, answer._ She was anxious to hear his voice, but the call went to his voicemail, as it so often did.

"Hi, it's me. Um, this would be easier if you had actually answered your phone. So call me back." She paused, deliberating how much exactly one could put into a voicemail message. "I don't like how we left things and this…avoiding each other is not helping. We need to talk. So please call me back, okay?" There, she had taken the first step. The ball was in his court now. She just hoped he would pick it up.


	31. Talking

"I'm glad you came" she said as he stepped inside, regretting it instantly. It felt awkwardly formal to welcome him like this, when in all reality, they would just be sitting around as they normally would have done on an evening like this.

"Sure." He removed his jacket and hung it up, took off his shoes and followed her into the living room. They remained standing in the middle of the room for a moment, uncertain what to do next. He was wearing casual, regular clothes, she noticed, nothing too formal or run down, so he hadn't just got off duty, which was better for having a real conversation.

She set the direction by sitting down on the sofa and he followed her lead, leaving a bit of space between them. He rubbed his palms against his jeans, not leaning back.

"How have you been?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"How do you think, after we…" She broke off and looked at her hands, deliberating her next words. It was harder to follow through on this with him sitting right next to her. Paradoxically, this ached more than not seeing him. Maybe she was only dragging out the inevitable, making it more painful for both of them. "Bri, can we not pretend…can we not throw everything away just like that?"

"I didn't want to throw away anything."

"But it was so….either/or."

"It's an either/or situation."

Yes. That was precisely the problem. "But based on one conversation? You didn't even really tell me how you feel about it all."

"Of course I did" he replied, irritated.

"Not really." She raised her hands defensively. "And I didn't give you much of a chance, to be fair. I kind of sprung this whole thing on you."

"Liv, please…no matter how it would have come up, the outcome would be the same. You want children. I don't. There's not really a way to compromise on that." He kept saying that, one hundred percent reason and sense.

"I heard you. I'd just like to understand." She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. "Why not?"

"I'm just not sure I'd be much of a father. There's the job, which means I'm always away, for days at a time, sometimes weeks –I know I could probably transfer, eventually" he interjected, seeing her open her mouth to argue with him. "But it's important to me. And I don't want to be one of these dads, like my dad was, who's never there. I don't want that. It wouldn't be right. And it wouldn't work, not for us."

"I can understand that." She once again went on the mental journey of picturing that life, with him gone a lot, being alone with a young child, being the one to make more sacrifices career-wise while watching him do his thing. Was she ready to make these sacrifices? Was she ready for that kind of asymmetrical relationship? "But families come in many forms. That life you mentioned, living in the suburbs and all that – that's not us. It doesn't have to be some kind of picture book family. I don't want to change who we are."

"But that's my point, having a kid would change who we are. It changes everything. You live for the kid. And I don't…I mean…things haven't been simple between us, exactly. We were just getting to some level of normal. We're not young, either. How can we take care of another person if we're just figuring out how to take care of ourselves?"

"You figure it out with time. It's a process." She couldn't help but think of Calvin in her kitchen, nearly setting the place on fire when he had made pancakes and forgotten to turn off the stove. "You know, I was named legal guardian of a boy once, only for a while. He was twelve at the time, so I know it's not the same thing, but…"

"I didn't know that" Brian muttered, after a pause. "What happened to him?"

"It was a complicated situation with his mother. I…his grandparents came back into his life and he went to live with them. We kept in touch for a while after that, but it sort of died down. He was angry I let him go." She tried not to think about it too hard, focusing on the way the light fell through the window and made a pattern on the floor.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't easy, being thrown into parenting like that, but you grow into it. You manage."

"But how? How would we find childcare at 1am, when both of us are out working? It's not even likely they'd let us adopt, with our high risk jobs and routines."

She noticed the switch he had made from talking about a child in the third person to "we". He was going through the same hypothetical scenario with her, envisioning them in the situation. "It would be hard. We would have to find some form of support, both formal and informal. I could go on leave from work. They'd replace me, and I'd be assigned…somewhere afterwards." Possibly not SVU. That was an idea she still needed to get her head around. This career sacrifice was perhaps the thing she wasn't quite ready for.

"Is that what you want?"

"I think." She tried to listen inside herself for an answer, but none came. It had all seemed so clear when she had seen the baby, sick and in need of help. But the more she thought about it and seriously weighed her options, the less certain she was. "I don't know for sure" she admitted. "I know I want a family."

He looked at her, and there was a great sadness in his eyes. They remained silent for a few moments, each chasing after their own thoughts. Maybe she was holding on to something that should have been left where it had been 14 years ago. She remembered when she had pressed her hands to his gunshot wound to staunch the blood flow, the fear and regret. Life was too short.

"I can't pretend that I'm ready for a baby, not even for you" he said quietly. "And I don't know if I'll ever be, but you are. You're so certain. And I…I love you so much. I don't want you to give that up. You should get to experience that. Maybe, with someone else-"

"I don't want to 'experience it' with someone else" she countered roughly. His noble mindedness annoyed her. She didn't need him to 'set her free' for her sake; she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. "I've thought about this a lot, and the thing is, I don't want to just adopt a child at any cost. Not by myself." She had talked to ACS and in all reality, her chances of being considered by herself, without another person or significant support system involved, were slim. But even thinking about it, hoping and daydreaming about it, it wasn't really just her and a child. It was her and Brian. It was hard to imagine a family life without him in it.

He shook his head. "I don't want you to sit here in 20 years wondering 'what if', wondering if you gave it up for me and if it was really worth it."

"Could you see us sitting here in 20 years?" She needed to know if he wanted a future with her, and what that childless future might hold for them.

"Well, not on this exact same couch maybe" he replied, failing at his feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "But yeah, I guess."

"Do you ever picture the future?"

"Of course. All the time." He rubbed his hint of a beard stubble.

"What does it look like? Your life in 20 years?"

"We'd be living in an awesome apartment. I mean even cooler than this, large, with big windows, close to the Bay." He gestured to indicate a large, asymmetrical space. "Still Westside. And, being 20 years in the future, it would have all sorts of technical gadgets."

She groaned at this. Of course he had to turn her rather serious question about their possible future together into a declaration of love for technology. Tablets, retina displays, ebook readers, a TV controlled via hand motions – they had it all, and rarely got around to using it.

"We'd still be working, but cutting back, or maybe we would have switched jobs by then, doing something at the DA's office or teaching at the academy. I wouldn't mind trying out teaching." He looked at her thoughtfully. "You might be an activist of some sort, in charge of something big. But either way, we would have weekends off, no more shift work, and we would go to the park or go hiking, find some way to keep active and healthy. And you'd drag me to exhibitions and things like that sometimes, and I'd always complain but end up going and sort of liking it sometimes, but never telling you because I wouldn't want you to be right." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And we'd save up money and from time to time, we'd take some time off and go on a crazy trip somewhere, driving straight across the whole country or river rafting in Nepal."

"River rafting in Nepal?" He sure put a lot of detail into this vision.

"A buddy of mine did it for his 50th birthday."

"Strike the river rafting in Nepal."

"Either way, we'd travel and be together. We could be married –or not, we wouldn't have to be-" he added quickly, "but if we were, I don't think either of us would change our last name."

"No, I don't suppose we would." She smiled sadly. A few months ago, before Baby Doe, before the non-pregnancy, this might have been her dream. It might still be. She was moved by how thought through this was, that he didn't picture a life without her any more than she did without him. It was a life she could imagine very well for both of them. The question was whether it was enough, whether she wanted to have a child more than she wanted this life. She had no answer. She needed time to think, time when he wasn't sitting right next to her and all she wanted to do was touch him.


	32. Regret

"You want to go grab a drink?" It was such a simple question, not strange at all coming from a colleague she had known for a while. And still, she had hesitated. She was still finding her boss mode and trying to figure out how much of what used to be normal could still be normal. Except that it had never been a regular thing for A.D.A. Barba and her to go grab a drink together, unless it was in a group, and now that she was commanding officer and things had been rather awkward group wise, there really wasn't anyone else who was an actual peer. Their interactions had cooled somewhat since their argument, riddled with the complexity of their mistakes, but here he was, clearly trying to make an effort to get along. It seemed rude not to accept. Besides, it would be nice to have somewhere to go, to talk casually and not have to face her empty apartment just yet.

They had met at the end of her shift to discuss a case that involved a five-year-old potential sexual abuse victim, whose testimony was naturally susceptible to suggestion. The evidence so far seemed to indicate that the little girl had become caught up in a bitter custody fight, but they were waiting for the psychological assessment report to find out definitively whether this could be brought to trial or not. It had been a fairly productive day with regards to this case at least, but the ball was in her court now and she wasn't too happy about bringing him yet another case that might turn out to be nothing after all – in legal terms at least.

So here they were, at the old, half-empty bar, just the two of them left. Barba glanced over at her. "You don't look so good."

She forced a half-hearted smile. "That's charming."

"You okay?"

She wished he would stop asking her that every time they shared a semi-private moment. It was as if he was waiting for the department to fall apart in her hands. "Sure."

He kept looking at her for a moment, then turned back to his whiskey, swirling the ice cubes in his glass. "You know, I don't understand these parents. Fighting over their kids like they're property; it's disgusting."

"Me neither." She took a sip of her wine, pondering the situation. "But we're done for today. Time to switch it off."

"How do you switch it off?"

"I shift my focus." She shrugged. "Get chores done. Do things I enjoy."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes. I'm getting better at it. Took me a while to get there." There weren't too many things she did enjoy right at this moment, things that wouldn't remind her of Brian. Mostly, she had just been trying to pass the day. "What about you? What do you do when you go home?

"I watch C-SPAN, mostly." He gestured at the TV screen overhead, which was not showing C-SPAN but some Spanish telenovela. "Play some golf on the weekends."

She couldn't help smiling. He would. "Do you…have pets or anything?" It was the least personal personal question she could think of, something safe that wouldn't cross the line of his tightly wound professionalism.

"No pets. My plants tend to die, so a dog would definitely be too much responsibility" he answered, completely serious. "Sheila, my ex-wife, had a cat, but she took it with her."

"I'm sorry." This was new information.

He shrugged, still staring up at the screen. "It hated me and always scratched the furniture, so we didn't exactly share a bond of affection."

"I didn't mean the cat." She put down the wine glass, supporting her head in her hand. She was feeling tired all of a sudden.

"Ah. Well, in Sheila's case, turns out affection alone wasn't enough."

"It really isn't" she muttered.

"You pay the price for your priorities. It's not that I regret anything, it's just…" He shook his head, swirling his drink again. "Everything comes at a price."

She knew what he meant. Nothing was free or simple. "Regret is pointless. If you had made different choices, you might also want different things now."

"I don't know about that. In the end, I think some desires are universal, if sometimes incompatible. Good health, safety, success, love, friendship, comfort, esteem, stability, lack of boredom…"

"Boredom? Well, at least we don't have issues with that." She raised her glass in an implied toast and took another sip of her wine.

"We may not. Sheila did. And that's my sob story of the day" he concluded, indicating that this was all he wanted to say on the matter.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know more, anyway. She waited a moment, thinking about his words on universal desires. What were her desires? Happiness. Love. Success. Stability. Companionship. Freedom. Freedom – now more than ever, in her post-Lewis life. She wanted to breathe, eat, live, work, sleep without a shadow cast on it. Did freedom have to entail being alone? "I might have to look for a new place to live. Again."

From the way he paused, she could tell he understood the meaning of her statement. "So soon?"

"We haven't worked out the details yet." She didn't know why she was telling him this. Somehow, Barba sharing information on his failed marriage had created a need for reciprocation. "I'm hoping it won't come to that."

"I hope you're right."

"I guess we don't always get to fulfil our desires." Saying it out loud was scary.

"No. But sometimes, with time and work…sometimes, maybe."

She wanted to believe he was right. "Maybe."

"Let me know if you need the names of any realtors."


	33. Unprepared

"Brian!" The surprised utterance escaped her before she could fully process his presence in this empty street at this late hour.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you" he apologized, his breath forming little clouds in the cold night air.

"No, don't be - I mean, what are you doing here?"

He approached her slowly, standing right in front of her. "I just wanted to stop by. I knew you were supposed to be working late today and I thought-" he paused, looking almost embarrassed, "I thought I'd pick you up."

Now she was truly confused. "Pick me up from work?" She stepped down from the curb to be on a level with him.

"Not really, I just wanted to see you." His face had that boyish expression again when he said it, the one she had fallen in love with over time.

"Brian…" She couldn't stop herself from touching his arm, squeezing it affectionately. She had missed him, too. "You know you're not making this any easier, right?"

"It's not going to be easy either way. We still live together."

"Yeah." She wasn't ready for the detangling conversation, that inevitable talk about who would get the apartment, who would have to find a new place to live and move out –or whether that was even what they wanted- who would get the TV or the things they had just bought together down to the last fork. She wasn't ready for it today, after a long shift at work, or maybe she was simply putting it off again. "Look, it's not that I want you out of my life, I just think we both need time to adjust-"

"I don't want to adjust."

"Okay. So that's it?" The shift from an "I don't think we have a future together since we want different things, but I love you" to a "this is over, goodbye" hit her hard. She tried to push a lose strand of hair that kept blowing into her face back, which was impossible to do with gloves on. He reached out and gently tucked the stray hair behind her ear, his bare fingers brushing against her face. She caught his hand on the way down. "You're cold."

"Yeah. I was hoping we could talk, but maybe this isn't the time and place for that conversation." He was reciprocating the hold she kept on his hand, her warmer fingers curling around his. They started walking along the road. "I don't want things to be over. I just wanted to see you before…"

"Before what?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm going undercover again."

"Oh." Her voice betrayed her disappointment. He was all too ready to leave without things being resolved between them. Then again, it might be easier, a quick escape from their problems. "How long?"

"It's not deep cover, a few days, a couple of weeks tops. I can't say for sure."

She nodded, all too familiar with the unpredictable nature of his assignments. There was nothing she could say. "Be careful."

"Always. But listen, I'm going to think about some things and…could we talk when I get back?"

"Of course." She would never deny him the opportunity to talk.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Just don't throw out my DVDs yet, okay?"

She was going to make some joke about how his t-shirts would be the first to go, but the words got stuck in her throat. "We'll talk."

"Okay" he said, looking genuinely relieved. "You want a ride home? It's late."

"No, thanks. I took my car to work today." She pointed it out in the endless row of vehicles parked on the curb, holding up her keys. He hadn't even noticed it.

"Right." He leaned in and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. "Drive safe."

"You too." She watched him walk away, long after she knew she should be unlocking her car and getting in. He never looked back.

She was torn out of her thoughts abruptly by the ringing of her cell phone. Pulling her glove off, she rummaged in her coat pocket for a moment before finding it. Glancing at the display, she was disappointed to see the letters "ADA Barba" from her work contacts flash up. So much for going home. Why on earth was he calling her in the middle of the night? His work hours were fairly regular. "Hello?"

"Olivia, we need to meet" he stated in his business-like manner, getting straight to the point.

"Uh, now? It's 1am."

"Now. It's urgent."

She could tell from his demeanour that it wasn't good news. Hell, he wouldn't be calling at this hour if it were. Cop mode kicked back in. "Okay. I'll get back to-"

"Where are you right now?"

"Right outside the precinct. Why?"

"Get back inside. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes."


	34. Being There

She checked the locks on her windows for the third time since getting home, taking a quick glance out at the street even though there was nothing to see. _You have a protective detail_, she reminded herself. _Stop obsessing. You need to get some rest if you want to catch him. He wants you to be off your guard. He's playing his mind games with you, wearing you out by not doing anything. He's using your fear. Don't let him._ There were two cops right outside her apartment door, and another couple of cars downstairs, which was more than usual. Barba had insisted, and she wouldn't give him any arguments this time. Any way of getting into the building had been covered. _But he's clever. I still don't know how he got in last time. He'll use the element of surprise. If he wants to, he can get past._ _But he's not omnipotent, stop catastrophising. _It had been a stupid idea to go home, she had realised the second she had walked into her empty apartment after it had been searched extensively and cleared. Anything was better than being here, reminded of how everything had happened last time. However, she hadn't had much of a choice, after thirty-two hours at the precinct, where she wouldn't have been able to catch a break, either.

They hadn't been making any progress these past few hours, hadn't had any more leads to follow despite everyone working in overdrive. They were waiting for forensic reports on the bodies. Emotions were running high and when Lieutenant Carranza had become involved in the investigation –_her_ investigation- through Barba's concern, he had sent the team home for a few hours, and had "strongly recommended" she didn't show up back there until the morning. And, since she wasn't alone, she couldn't very well go anywhere else at this time of night. But it wasn't hers, or Carranza's, investigation that would catch Lewis. He would be the one to make contact, she knew that. She just couldn't stand the waiting, not after that first phone call that had made her feel sick to her stomach.

Pumped up on fear, rage and lack of sleep, her body was in a persistent state of hyperarousal. She didn't know if she had a breaking point, but if she did, this was definitely it. _Let him come, then. I'm ready. _Her hand touched the gun she was carrying on her body at all times. But she didn't want him here, not in her safe space, her apartment. She didn't want to have to move again. She glanced out the window again. She could have sworn she had just seen Nick's car going by – Nick, who had followed her home against her express command. They had all offered to stay with her, had offered for her to crash at their place, but she had declined. Still, she had overheard them talking about working out some kind of system, and falling quiet when she had approached them. She hated that they did that now, talking about her in hushed voices like she was something fragile to be sheltered. She wasn't going to put any of them at risk, and either way, it was only a matter of time until Lewis figured it out. She had made it clear to them that they were not to go off investigating on their own off duty, that no accident would befall Lewis should they happen to find him. Of course, if they did find him first, he didn't stand a chance.

Her radio cracked, making her jump out of her skin. "Sergeant Benson, this is Officer Marowe. There's a man downstairs to see you. We have been able to confirm his i.d.."

"Who is it?"

"Detective Brian Cassidy."

She took a deep breath. So he had heard. Well, it was impossible not to, with the search going on. She couldn't send him away. "Let him in."

A seemingly eternal wait and another radio call from the hallway later, she opened the door and let him step into their apartment. It was a bizarre feeling, for her to have the power to let him in or decline him entry. This was his place as much as hers.

"Bri…" She didn't know what she had intended to say. He looked rugged and unshaved. Before she could try and think of something appropriate, he pulled her into a wordless hug. She tensed up as he wrapped his arms around her. If she let go now, she might lose it, and that was the last thing she wanted. He smelled and felt the same way as always. She clutched his jacket and gave into the embrace for just a moment, just that one moment, before breaking away.

"Any leads?" he asked.

"Loads of false leads. Nothing that amounts to anything so far."

"I'm so sorry" he said awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

"Hell no. My abductor broke out of prison." She ran one hand through her messy hair. "But I'm managing."

"Sorry, stupid question."

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be UC-"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter now. Look, I only just heard. I would have-"

"You didn't need to come" she clarified.

He looked at her incredulously. "Of course I had to."

"We broke up." It was harsh, she knew, but her mind was beyond the point of being able to be subtle. She didn't need him to rush back here to save her. She could look after herself.

His face hardened. "I remember. Does that really matter right now?"

"No." She didn't have time to think about anything but Lewis at the moment, anything but the gnawing apprehension and fight to stay in the present, to analyse his movements with some kind of detachment. Everything that had come before, everything that might come after, was like a story out of a different life right now, an illusion of safety she had once had.

"I want to stay with you" he proposed, equally forward.

"No."

"Why not?"

"No need. I have a protective detail." She started pacing again, unable to stand still for a moment. "I'm heading back to the precinct in a bit. I don't have time…I have enough people watching my back. You don't need to worry."

"I know. Do you realise Amaro's practically camping outside your building?"

She shook her head. "Yeah. Not at my request."

"Obviously. But that's not why I'm here." His features softened, his expression changing to one of concern.

"Why then?"

"I don't want you to be alone."

"I won't do anything stupid, promise."

"Good, but I mean…this…it's horrible. I don't want you to have to deal with that by yourself." He knew. God, he, of all people, knew most what it meant, what it was doing to her to be under constant threat again.

"I…" She opened her mouth and closed it again, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "That's very sweet, thank you. But considering recent events, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please" he appealed to her irrational side. "I'll stay as a friend, on your terms, I'll sleep on the couch and leave you be. Just let me stay."

'A friend', what a bizarre expression. How easy it would be to just give in. To not be alone in the dark apartment. And how very wrong. If something happened and she did get a chance to go after Lewis, she knew he would hold her back. She could see that he was seeking her out for his own sake as well, so he didn't have to sit home alone and worry about her. But she couldn't think anymore, she was too tired for that, too tired to weigh up pros and cons, to argue about this or figure out a clever way of getting him off her back. "For tonight" she agreed quietly. "Thank you."

He nodded, satisfied, walking into the apartment and taking a look around. "They checked all the ways of getting in?" He was in neutral cop mode, which was safe territory for them.

"Yes. But you know we were pretty careful when we picked this place." They had had a state of the art alarm system installed. There was no balcony, no way of getting in via neighbouring apartments.

"I remember." He checked the window frames as she had just done. "And they searched the place? Properly?"

"Of course they did." Too many questions. If Lewis had been hiding inside the apartment, she would most likely be dead by now.

He covered his mouth and shook his head. Now he was the one who was pacing. "How the fuck did he get out?!"

"How the fuck did no one manage to make those charges stick for over a decade?" She sank down on the sofa, burying her head in her hands. "He's smart."

"What kind of idiot doctor buys into his fake seizure crap?" Anger. It was the stage she had passed a few hours ago.

"There's no point in blaming the victim. You know what happened in court last time." She clearly didn't need to remind him of how Lewis had played the jury.

"So what's his play, here? Why hasn't he done anything yet?"

"I don't know" she replied, exasperated with the questions she had been trying to answer a million times. "Hoping we'll stop watching him so closely? Making us chase our tails, for the fun of it?"

"Do you have any of his file here?"

She didn't. All that she had was the transcript of her own court case, which she had obtained via slightly improper means in order to study them for any clues. "No, and you're not looking at his file."

"A pair of fresh eyes can't hurt; I need to find him-"

"No. Listen to me, Brian" she stressed more loudly, seeing him open his mouth to object again, "you're not going to find new information in there. You're not objective. There are hundreds of people out there who want nothing more than to find Lewis, and I got a bunch of people who I hope to God are not the ones to track him down, because if they do, they'll kill him and go to jail for it. You want to help? You can stay here, because it…it helps not to be alone. Okay?"

"Okay" he replied powerlessly, dropping the argument. "Okay." He sat down next to her, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, his hands folded.

"Thank you."

"Shit" he muttered.

"You can say that again. I thought this was done." She rubbed her eyes. Her make-up had been on for far too long, causing them to itch. "I thought it was over. And now he killed those people…the guard and…just to get to me."

"You can't think like that. This is not your fault."

"He can't let me win. I won, but the wrong way." She struggled to find the words, not sure how much he could understand from the outside, how much these dynamics between her and Lewis made sense. "He can't allow that. I played the game."

"It's not a game" he said, aghast. "You did what you had to do to survive, to put him away. It's real. It's not a game."

"It is to him."

"Because he's a sick pervert!" His jaw was clenched under the strain of containing that rage. "You can't think like him."

"How else am I supposed to find him?"

"Maybe it's not your job to find him! He's hurt you enough-"

"I played the game." She looked at him, desperately willing him to understand. It was her inner world of violence, her personal nightmare that she had never wanted him to become a part of, that she had never wanted to put inside his head. "Don't you get it? I let him get to me. He got me to use violence, to beat him brutally to a point where I could barely stop-

"-but you did-"

She held up her hand, shushing him. "I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but in a sick way, I did what he wanted. I crossed that line. And I lied about it on the stand."

"Because good people don't lie?" he exclaimed. "This is Lewis we're talking about! He had to be stopped!"

"That's not the point." Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "I did what I did. And he can't leave it at that; he can't let me win. He'll get back at me, and more people will suffer."

"Liv." He put his hand on her upper back, but she shrugged it off, unable to tolerate the contact. "Liv…please…that's what he wants you to think. That's what he's trying to put into your head, how he gets control. That doesn't make it true."

"It really doesn't matter now." This wasn't the time for fundamental discussions about her head. "We need to find him before even more people get hurt."

"Yes. And the best way to do that is after a break that you actually use to rest."

"Rest" she scoffed. "Do you really think I can sleep now?"

"You're exhausted, you know you are. It's affecting your judgement." He was good at this, she thought, good at finding the point that he knew would work with her. "Go lie down, try at least. I'll stay right here."

She gave in, forcing herself to exhale the breath she had been holding. "Thank you."


	35. Waking

It hadn't been a nightmare, she realized as her initial fog of confusion lifted. Her lights were dimmed but on, and she was lying on top of her covers fully dressed, wide awake, alone, not bolting up from sleep drenched in sweat. This was real, there would be no waking from this dream. Her eyes automatically sought her alarm clock to check how much time had passed. 3:53am. Another hour, she told herself, another hour and she would head out to continue her manhunt. She listened to the silence for a minute or so, as the events of the past day inevitably washed over her. She couldn't remember drifting off to sleep, after tossing and turning, but recalled a strange state of half-sleep, that point where you were still semi-aware of the room but also dreaming, with thoughts and fantasies all blending together. No real rest, but better than nothing, and at the very least, she had been able to take a shower.

She listened to the silence again. Despite the reassurance Brian's presence in the living room was supposed to provide, she felt uneasy knowing that he was behind that corner, that she would have to pass through to the next room to check on him, not knowing what she might find – a bloody mess? She shook the mental images before they could become too distinct. _Good morning, sunshine._ She had deliberately left the bedroom door open for precisely that reason, as much as she needed her withdrawal space and privacy. The silence unnerved her. She slowly rose from the bed, feeling slightly dizzy, and moved to the other room as quietly as possible. The floor was cold under her feet.

She glanced over the back of the couch, relieved to find him lying at an awkward angle with his legs falling to one side, his eyes closed, breathing evenly. As she moved around the couch, she inevitably alerted his spider senses. He jerked awake, sitting up instantly. "Huh? What?" They had left some of the living room lights on, too. "Olivia?"

"Shh."

"Everything all right?" He looked around the room nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Damn, you startled me."

"Sorry." She shouldn't have robbed him of his moment of peace.

"No need to apologize." He rubbed his eyes and moved his legs, making room for her on the sofa. She sat down beside him wordlessly and he put his arm up on the back of the couch, facing her. "What time is it?"

"4am."

"Did you get to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Really?" He studied her face, not asking why she was waking him up in the middle of the night.

"A bit, sort of." Too many questions again. Her head was overflowing with things to consider and she was fighting the urge to call in and ask for new information, any CCTV footage to study or anything. She knew there wasn't any news, or they would have called her, but waiting and doing nothing was impossible.

"How can I help?"

"You can't." She leaned back sideways, coming close to his arm.

"So what are you doing to do?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "Please stop asking me questions. I don't know."She hated that he felt that he needed to be here for her, that it was a situation like this once again that brought them closer together. That had been the entire problem with their relationship, that it was based on tragedy and mutual dependency.

"Okay" he said helplessly, lightly brushing against her shoulder with his thumb.

"Sorry."

"Please stop apologizing."

"All right. I expect Lewis to make contact eventually. That'll give us a chance to track him down. Engage him, find out what he wants."

Brian shifted uneasily, visibly chewing on something. "And you'll…engage him."

"As far as I have to, yes. He's too clever to fall for tricks though." No games, she promised herself. No dangerous games, no drawing him in.

"So you'll talk to him."

She nodded. "Sooner or later."

"And you're ready for that." His doubts were evident in his tone.

"Never. I never wanted to hear his voice again. It…" The thought alone made her sick, but Brian didn't need to hear that. "Readiness doesn't come into it. It's not like I have a choice."

"I guess not. I just worry that…" He stopped, rubbing his beard stubble absent-mindedly. "Just don't go after him on your own or anything. Don't be a hero."

The wording irked her. "Believe me, that's the last thing I want." And still, she might have to do it anyway. There was a dark part of her that wanted to, a part that desperately needed to be the one to bring Lewis down, to show that he hadn't destroyed her, to win. To make his voice stop.

"Do you think about it? I mean, about killing him?"

"We'd have to find him first."

He ignored her evasive answer.

"I want to" she said quietly, horrified by her own words. "So it's over. But I also don't, because I want him to suffer, and I don't- I don't want to have it in me to do…that. I want the system to work. I want to prove that he can't play it, and that he can't make me do that. I want things to be just. I need to believe that I work in a system that makes sense." She scooted down further on the sofa, leaning into the corner. "I just don't know if that's true."


	36. Mea culpa

Her phone had been ringing non-stop ever since her TV appearance. She had been dodging questions from Tucker, Lieutenant Carranza, the press, some crazy lawyer wanting to take up Lewis' case, a priest, Raffael Barba, the news station, and what seemed like the rest of the world. She had persuaded Tucker, miraculously, to hold off on questioning her until they got Amelia back safely. If she was still alive. She refused to imagine the alternative. As long as they could save her, she told herself, the rest didn't matter.

She seemed to be walking from A to B non-stop, her security detail following her step by step, an unnerving shadow of a pair. Five minutes was all she had asked from them, all she had asked from Nick and Rollins and Fin, to sit in her office by herself and breathe. After that, all she could do was wait by the phone, hoping that Lewis would keep his word and call. Call, he would, she knew that much, if only to gloat, although whether he would keep his promise was less than certain. The promise of a serial rapist and murderer couldn't really count for much. But she had done as he had told her to, done what she could to save the girl. She could only hope against hope it was enough although she knew in her heart that it couldn't be, that Lewis had to have a second act planned. And even if not, he might kill her anyway, because she was little more than a doll to him.

She unbuttoned her uniform jacket, the jacket she might be wearing for the very last time today – certainly, it would be her last time wearing a gold badge and sitting in this office. She looked around, taking in the room, her position behind this desk, Cragen's desk. She hadn't managed to hold on to it for long. If only she hadn't lied in court, if she had trusted her instincts and been honest, none of this might have happened. She might not have Lauren Cole's suffering on her hands, little Amelia's blood on her hands. Or Lewis might have gotten off in court and killed other people the second he got away. She didn't know; nothing seemed certain anymore beyond the fact that she was guilty of something, some crime and whatever she did seemed to make things worse.

Except for this. She had been honest, admitted her fault for the whole world to see, and whatever it might cost her, she knew that she had done the right thing. Living with a lie, that wasn't her. _I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, __through my fault, through my fault__, __through my most grievous fault__._ As the phrase randomly crossed her mind, she thought of Elliot and his unshakable faith in something she had never been able to understand. Confession was supposed to lead to absolution, but the truth was that it could never make things right again. There was no deity to bargain with, no one to make promises to that she would keep as long as Amelia lived.

Finally, it was her cell phone that rang yet again, not her office phone. She glanced down to see Brian's face, that stupid selfie he had taken ages ago and programmed into his contact info when she had left her phone lying around at his place. She had other things to be doing right now than talking to him, but she had already refused to take his last call and he was probably worried about her.

"Hey" she opened the line, telling herself that it would only be a brief talk, only to reassure him that she was fine but busy and to get him off her back for a while. "I only have a minute."

"Why did you do it?" it spilled out of him without a greeting. They hadn't talked since before the abduction.

"I had to." He had to have watched the rest of the news to understand why.

"If they get you for perjury, he could-"

"He's already out. It's done."

"Liv-"

"He raped that woman. He raped her, and he told her to tell me that-" She couldn't continue. "He took her daughter. He said he'd kill her if I don't tell the truth. Can you not understand that?"

"I understand, I do."

"She's twelve years old, Brian." Tears started to roll down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand quickly, before anyone could barge into her office and see. This, talking to Brian, wasn't doing any good right now. She couldn't afford to lose focus.

"Shit."

"I have to find her."

"Liv, promise me-"

"I gotta go, sorry."

"Hey, wait, don't do anything dangerous, okay?"

"I won't" she lied, ending the call. She had made up her mind.


	37. Russian Roulette

_One._

"No, no, don't, don't, don't…" Her own terror finally overwhelmed her as Lewis pointed the gun at Amelia, who had been tied up in a stress position for who knew how long. It was the girl's whimpering that did it, that reached her on a visceral level and stopped any rational thought. "Okay. Okay."

There was only one thing she could do, one option left. She was running out of time to buy. There was no trick, no secret ace up her sleeve. There was no certain way to save this girl, she saw that now. This sick bastard would rather die than relinquish control. She only had herself to give. She would do it.

"It's your turn."

And yet, as she felt the cold metal against her hand, her body refused to obey her, shaking uncontrollably with two guns pointed at her. _Keep your hand steady. Just press down your finger. Don't think about it. Do it._ She didn't want to die. Not like this. She didn't want to hear herself die. The words were all she had in her head. She did not want to die.

_Two._

"Pull the trigger, Olivia. Or I will. Do it now. They're coming."

The odds were in her favour, still slightly in her favour. But he had been lucky so far. The insane rush that had surged through her as she had pulled the trigger and nothing had happened, as she had realized that it would be his turn again next, that bit of hope as she had heard the helicopter, had been crushed instantly. She couldn't work out the mathematics of it all in her mind, but right now, at this moment, she was certain she would die this time. He was lucky. She wasn't. Ever. _Pull the trigger, and it will all be over. No more suffering. _But she didn't want to die, and somehow, doing it again after she had done –and survived- it once was harder. It was unfair, with help so close by. Her body was covered in sweat and urine, and still, she wanted to live. Her hand once again failed.

She attempted to pretend it wasn't real, tried to evoke different images. She randomly remembered reading once that research participants had been found to cope better while undergoing painful medical procedures if they imagined their loved ones with them. She tried to dig up something, some memory or image, anything… Brian. Her mother. Elliot. Someone. Anyone. But they remained empty words in her mind, and she couldn't picture them at all, could barely form a coherent thought. The girl. She had to do it because of the girl. She found her strength once more.

_Three._

"Game over. Say goodbye, Olivia." He moved around the table in slow motion, pointing the gun at her head. "This is the last thing you're gonna think about before you die…the last thing you're gonna see."

Of course. There had only ever been this one outcome. All the rest of it had been an illusion of the game, his toying with her, playing cat and mouse, giving her the illusion of control, over and over again. She had thought she had won the game, and she still lost it. She was always going to die. That much had been obvious from the moment they had been walking towards this bleak, empty labyrinth. Okay. Okay, then. _Just let him do it, let it be done. Look away, Amelia._

But he couldn't win, her last thought wouldn't be him. Not his ugly face. She tried to picture something else, anything, something simple. Sun in Central Park. Being held. She tried to see her life flash before her eyes, as you were supposed to, but nothing came. In death, she was completely alone. She could only see Lewis, and he was all she would ever see.

And then he shifted the position of the gun, pointing it at his own temple, holding her head right there next to it. Oh, God. No… It all became disjointed. A bang and a scream. A vague sensation of something on her face. His bloody hand on the floor. She was alive.


	38. After

The vent in the corner kept buzzing on and off again. It unnerved her, not so much the low buzzing itself, but its intermittent nature. She couldn't stop staring at the cream coloured grate, anticipating when the sound would start up again, flinching when it did. Everything else, the glaring light in the hospital room, the sterile look of the instruments around and the paper sheet covering the table she was sitting on, was too painfully familiar. She hated hospitals. She hated the waiting, just sitting here with her feet dangling off the table, defying the nurse's instructions to lie down with her legs elevated for a bit.

It was the first time they had left her alone for a minute since they had found her in the abandoned granary. No one had bothered to tell her what was going on, except when she had asked the nurse how Amelia was doing and had refused to cooperate further unless someone bothered to find out. The nurse had thrown a nervous glance at the medical instruments in the corner, and had locked the drawers before stepping outside to find out more at her request. She was in trouble. But she had known that since the second Lieutenant Murphy had urgently whispered "don't say a thing", since the humiliating moment he had barked at the horrified team to take pictures of the crime scene before cutting the tape around her ankles. She found it hard to care.

She was glad she wasn't supposed to talk; it made things easier. This way, she could pretend to be an inanimate object, as she was in their hands anyway. She had been taken to hospital, not for medical attention this time but for the collection of evidence from her body. She had been asked a million questions from the examiner again as she had reconstructed the assault history. She had been taken pictures of, stripped with her clothes taken into evidence, taken more pictures of, screened with fluorescent lighting, swabbed, combed, scraped, examined, been asked for blood and urine samples, and checked for gunshot residue by another specialist. All of which was painfully familiar. It had to have taken hours before she was finally allowed to wash Lewis' blood off her face, blood she had been able to smell the whole time. She would never get rid of that iron smell in her nose. Her hands and feet had felt cold and numb as the nurse had gently helped her make a start on washing up, since she had stood there frozen, staring at herself in the mirror. She still didn't feel clean, not even in the baggy fresh clothes provided to her by the hospital. She wondered who they had belonged to once – presumably someone who had died with no family to claim the belongings, or a donation.

The door opened as the specialist nurse examiner, a calm, professional woman with an Australian accent in her late thirties, re-entered the room.

"How's Amelia?" Olivia asked immediately. It was the one thing she could still care about.

"As well as can be expected. She has not sustained any serious injuries, despite the strain put on her ligaments. Her shoulders will need some rest. The police wanted to question her, but she wasn't in any state to answer any questions. She has been sedated and will sleep for a few hours. Her grandparents are with her."

"Thank you" she managed, realizing fully that the nurse was not obliged to provide her with any of this information. She was relieved to hear that, at least, the girl wasn't alone. Her life would never be the same again, her family destroyed by what had happened to them. She closed her eyes, trying to shake the sound of Amelia's gasps as she had been tied up, with Lewis threatening to rape either one of them.

The nurse, whose name she had forgotten in all this, approached her side. "Is there anyone we can call in for you?"

"No. I'm fine."

The younger woman frowned. Olivia couldn't stand the expression of pity in her face. "Are you sure? They'll want to question you soon and…things are a bit of a mess out there, with your boss shouting at this other bloke who wants to take over. And they're all asking about you, the others, they're quite worried-"

"Please tell them I'm fine, and…and keep them away if you can." She knew the nurse would be powerless against the likes of Murphy and Tucker, but any minute of solitude she could have was a gain. What she couldn't handle was the prospect of facing her squad, Nick, Fin and Amanda, after they had seen her with her face covered in blood, tied to the table with her pants undone. She would never forget the horror in Nick's face as he froze, the shakiness in Amanda's hands as she cut the tape.

"There's another officer, too, who's just arrived, a Detective Cassidy, claims to be your emergency contact and wants information, but it's against policy to disclose-"

She shrugged. Too many decisions to make. "You can tell him what you want." Brian would find out anyway; he would have spoken to the others by now. And he was, in fact, still her emergency contact. "Tell him I'm okay."

The nurse hesitated. "He's asked to see you."

To see her, to see him, these were two very different things. Seeing him, after she was unbelievably still alive, after she had thought she would never see him again – yes, she did want that. Him seeing her after all this, seeing her after she had lied to him and gone after Lewis, after one more, messed up tragedy, once again in hospital – that probably wasn't such a good idea. She couldn't make the decision. She didn't feel things. She was numb and cold, exhausted and hollow. This whole scene seemed strangely unreal. "I don't know" she mumbled.

"I can tell him that we're still busy with the exam."

"No, don't." That would only make him worry more. "Send him in." She might as well get this over with.

The nurse slipped outside again, and it seemed to take ages –two buzzing intervals from the vent, in fact- of waiting again, before the door opened once more and a man rushed in, halting in his footsteps halfway through the room.

She didn't know what to say as he stood in front of her, unshaved, his eyes red, looking about ten years older than the last time she had seen him. He was equally speechless, dropping his arms and staring at her. She was glad he would at least never get to see her with Lewis' blood all over her face, although she knew that a bruise had formed where Lewis had slapped her. There was nothing either of them could say to make this right, to make this any less than awful. It was different from last time, when she had been injured and hospitalised, a victim who had survived a four day ordeal against all odds by rescuing herself. Then, he had rushed to her side and been a rock of stability, never falling apart. Now, she didn't even know herself what she was. She had gotten herself into this situation.

"Liv…" His eyes wandered over her body, and she could see a glimpse of disgust in his face as he noticed the chafing on her wrists.

She quickly pulled down her sleeves further. "Just superficial radial nerve injury and some abrasions" she explained clinically. "He didn't hurt me much." These words sounded awkward coming out of her mouth, and wholly inadequate to describe what had transpired, but she hoped that their true implications weren't lost on Brian. He was bound to have found out every other detail from Nick.

"Not much?!" He covered his mouth with his hand, fighting for composure. "Good. It's over, all over." He moved closer to her, and she knew that he was saying it to find anything, any comfort in this, something to hold on to. If she had been injured, he might have responded differently.

"He's dead" she stated, trying to find any feeling inside her that this might elicit – relief, anger, glee, anything. There wasn't anything left. Lewis was dead, gone for good, and she was alive, and none of it meant a thing. "I didn't kill him."

"Okay." She couldn't tell if it was an "okay, I believe you" or an "okay, whatever you say".

"The girl survived." It felt important to explain this, to give herself the illusion that her mission had had a purpose.

"You could have died." His voice was raspy. "Amaro said they heard…" He shook his head. "It was close."

"Yes. But I didn't."

He hesitated, chewing on something. "You went after him." There was no way to keep the betrayal out of this conversation.

"Yes."

"Jesus, Liv…Russian roulette…" He took her hands into his, holding them tightly.

"I had no choice."

"That's not true" he replied quietly.

"I couldn't let him kill the girl. I couldn't have…" _Lived with myself._ She didn't finish the sentence.

"I know. I know. You've been so brave." It didn't sound like a compliment coming from him, more like an ambiguous, empty shell of words that he wanted to make himself believe.

"It's over now" she repeated his earlier statement, trying to make herself realise it, experience it. Once again failing. Closure was a lie. There was no way of going back, and this time, no way forward either. She had given up everything, and now Lewis had left her to rebuild her life a second time. But there was nothing left to rebuild it with, only the shambles of her life, her career, her credibility, her sense of self.

"Yeah. For good."

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her shoulders, staying still. "I hope he burns in hell."


	39. Homecoming

"Home, sweet home." It came out sounding more sarcastic than intended. She put down her keys on the chest of drawers, let her purse drop to the floor and unzipped her coat, hanging up her scarf.

Brian entered behind her, and when she motioned to take her other bag from him, he refused, walking past her. "It's okay, I got it."

"Thank you" she forced herself to tell him. He had been annoyingly insistent about carrying the bag for her, even though it was only small, containing the bare necessities he had fetched from their apartment for her short, pointless stay at the hospital under observation. She hadn't wanted him to do all that for her, but the thought of anyone else rummaging through her underwear drawer had seemed even less appealing. Of course, Brian had forgotten the most basic things like a hairbrush, but it had been sweet of him to do it nonetheless. She reminded herself to recognise the good will behind it, rather than the intrusive, dependent feeling it gave her.

He wordlessly moved to the bedroom and began to unpack for her.

"You really don't need to do that."

"It'll only take two minutes. Just sit down and relax."

Relax. She wasn't sure if she would be able to do that ever again. "I'm tired of sitting around." She leaned against the doorframe, watching him fold a spare T-shirt she hadn't worn and put it away in the closet.

"You just got out of hospital."

"Brian. Look at me. I'm fine."

He did look at her, with the uncertainty that she had seen in his eyes since he had turned up at the hospital. "Do you want me to go out and grab some groceries for you?"

"That's very thoughtful, but no, thank you."

"You're sure? You probably have nothing in the fridge again." He was probably right about that.

"I'm sure."

"Okay." He removed the smaller bag of toiletries and zipped the large bag shut again, stowing it away in the box at the bottom of the closet. "I could make you something to eat."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." She hadn't really had any appetite. Eating seemed like too much effort. She had to keep reminding herself to drink water, or she would forget that, too.

He threw another worried glance her way, and she knew that she had given the wrong answer. He was looking for external markers, indicators that she was functioning. "Anything else you need?"

"Please, Bri, just stop." It was too much, all of it. Too much closeness, too much cotton wool she didn't need.

He rubbed his beard stubble. "Why is it so hard for you to accept help with the simplest things?" She could hear the frustration in his voice.

"I don't know…" She was tired. "I don't want to fight. Sorry. Thanks for the ride home."

He exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry. You've had a rough few days." He squeezed past her in the doorway, brushing against her shoulder. "You want some water?"

"N- yes, please" she said, taking the path of least resistance. She knew he was looking for practical things to do, simple ways to be supportive in a situation that was too much to handle emotionally. He had done the same thing last time. Now it was her job to smile and be grateful.

Brian brought them two glasses of water from the kitchen, already drinking his on the way across the room. She took a couple of sips and put her glass down on the dining table, sinking into a chair. The silence between them stretched out as he stood around uncertainly, his hands on the back of a chair. Whatever they had shared before she had gone to meet Lewis suddenly seemed a lifetime away, on the other side of that big divide. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was scaring Brian, or perhaps it was the unknown horrors that scared him, or not knowing how to act around her. She didn't know. There was so much damage between them, so much damage on every front right now, that talking about everyday things had become impossible. It felt like they were acting out a play.

They were saved from the awkwardness by the ringtone of Brian's phone. "Yeah, Jordan?...Look, now's not a good time...okay…right…but can't we…no, I understand. Yeah, I'll be right there. See you soon."

"Work?" she asked, somewhat relieved that a natural topic had come up.

"Yeah." He looked embarrassed. "I got called in. But maybe I can-"

"No, you should go." As an IA detective in particular, getting mixed up in all this wasn't a good idea for him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm all settled…go."


	40. Surviving

"It is what it is. What's done is done." She hated talking in clichés, but it seemed to be the language that communicated it best.

"And yet you sound…bitter about it?" Lindstrom asked, mirroring her emotional state.

"I wish things had gone down differently, sure, but I can't change what happened. What I've done."

He waited a moment before probing further. "What you've done?"

"I didn't kill him, if that's what you're thinking" she replied irritably. "I told you so."

"I never said you did."

"Yeah, well, it's what everyone's wondering." She looked out the window, avoiding his gaze on her. It was raining outside, although the cold had finally eased its grip on the city. It seemed crazy to her that the last time she had been in here, she had been talking about her break-up and her hopes for the future. It seemed a lifetime ago.

"Because Lewis set you up."

"Because I let him set me up. I walked right into his trap. And the irony of it all is, no matter what I say now – that I killed him, that I didn't kill him, that I lied under oath, that I lied on TV…no one will believe me, anyway. Because I survived, and he didn't."

"Your credibility was hurt" he acknowledged.

"He wanted me to live with this." She was looking straight at Lindstrom now, trying to convey the inescapability of her situation. "Forever."

He held her gaze. "One final, desparate act to hurt you. But he's dead. You're alive, Olivia. You decide how you want to live now."

She laughed without joy. "Right, me and the IAB, the DA and a grand jury. My career is over. I could be facing prison time. But I knew that when I went on the news. I got myself into this mess." She remembered that he was the one who had nudged her towards lying on the stand in the first place. It had been her own decision and she was ready to bear the consequences, but her therapist had definitely favoured it. She shouldn't have let him get to her.

"Could you have done anything differently?"

She went over it in her mind again, the time of the escape and her reaction. "Not at the time, not without putting the girl's life at risk. I did the right thing, coming clean." It just didn't make a difference at this moment. Nothing felt right anymore.

"What you did was extremely courageous" he agreed. "To prioritise the child's life over your own. You saved her life."

"Comes with the job" she shrugged, knowing full well that disobeying orders, carjacking, blindly running after a criminal and handing herself over to him did not come with the job, and that Lindstrom would see through that.

He looked somewhat worried, almost suspicious of her. "Does it?"

"It was courage at first, stoicism maybe. I was thinking about the girl, but also about Lewis, about needing to stop him for good. Ego also played a part in it for sure, needing to face him myself, stupidly believing I could do it on my own. But then…" She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to retain her composure. "I lost control, I couldn't do anything else. I thought I had to survive. I was ready to let him rape me, but I wasn't ready to shoot myself in the head." She hadn't told Lindstrom everything that had happened yet, and he hadn't asked her about the details, presumably wanting to stabilize her first before dealing with this retraumatisation. "But there was no way out; either way, there were two guns. I had to do it. He was calling the shots now. I did everything he asked." She could feel the anxiety welling up inside her, relived the cold feeling of metal against her skin, the sound the revolver had made as she had pulled the trigger…

"Olivia? Olivia, take a look around, where are you?"

She returned to the present, grounding herself in this office, making an effort to notice the sights, the sounds and smells around her, as she had previously done. She was safe here.

"Take a deep breath. See those flowers on the table?" He had replaced his plain fern with a small pot of bluish flowers.

"African violets" she observed, detached.

"Yes." She knew the trivial question had been a gentle attempt to reorient her. "Now you were saying that you did whatever you had to do to survive."

"Yes. I wanted to live. I fought so hard so he wouldn't win. But the closer it got to the end, the worse the odds…" She cocked her head, pausing. "I don't know, I was pretty damn sure I was going to die. And although I wasn't okay with that, it was…what it was." She lacked the words to describe the feeling of certainty she had experienced when she had known. Death had been clear. She didn't know what surviving meant. "And then I didn't die, he did. After wrecking everything. And here we are."

"So you were preparing yourself for death, but then you survived."

"Yeah. I guess."

"You know, sometimes people who go through a life-threatening event and survive it unexpectedly can experience feelings of disconnection and depression. It's pretty common."

She wasn't sure if knowing it was common (did he really have a representative sample of people who had been in exactly her situation?) helped her at all, but at least he had understood her point. It seemed ungrateful to feel this way, to not be counting her blessings and appreciating her luck. "Last time, when I got out, all I wanted to do was prove that I could get through this, to myself, to Lewis, to everyone. I wanted to take back everything that he took from me. Now, there's just no point. None of it makes sense anymore. Dying would have been simpler." She hated herself for saying it. It went against everything she believed in.

"That must be a difficult place to be at." He hesitated, only for a split second, but it was enough for her to notice. "Sounds like you are feeling quite hopeless at the moment."

"There's not much to hope for at this point. It's over."

"Olivia, have you had any thoughts about taking your life?" he asked calmly.

"No" she exclaimed, repulsed. She knew he had to ask the question, that her current state of dejection probably qualified her for an assessment of suicidal ideation, but she resented the accusation nonetheless. She wouldn't be thinking about it. If she had actually wanted to die by her own hand, she would have shot herself by now. "I would never do that."

"Can you tell me a few things that would keep you from doing it?"

"I couldn't do that to people. I'm stronger than that. I can get through this. I have to. I mean, it can't get any worse. My whole working life, I've told people that they can get through it, one day at a time." She was recounting her internal mantra. "And there are still things I want in life. Things I want to achieve and experience." Saying it out loud made it more real to her.

"Sounds like a number of reasons for living." He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands. "Can we agree, then, that I'll see you here for our next appointment? And if things get really bad, you'll make an earlier emergency appointment?"

"Yes, I promise" she told him, hoping to move past this awkwardness, on to a different subject.

"I'm glad. How are you coping with all this, in the meantime?"

"I'm busy figuring out what to do. Murphy and Tucker, they want me to say I lied on TV to save the girl, they want to turn it into some noble heroic story. I didn't, though." She looked at him firmly, daring him to object. He said nothing. "I can't keep going with a lie. It wouldn't be right."

"Would it be right for you to be punished for Lewis' crimes?"

"Not for his. For my own."

He leaned forward again. "Olivia-"

"No, don't." She raised her hand to silence him. "Please. I have to make that decision."

He closed his mouth, pausing for a moment to think. "Of course, it's your decision. So how will you make it?"

"I got legal counsel, obviously, but the lawyer keeps pushing me towards playing the vulnerable victim act, you know, the 'don't blame me, I was so traumatized I didn't know what I was doing'." She sighed, looking out the window again. "He wants to argue that I shouldn't be held responsible."

"Is that so wrong?"

"I _knew_ precisely what I was doing, the 'nature and quality of my actions', as you call it. I knew the risks. I just did it anyway. I'm sick and tired of everyone pulling out the PTSD card." She recalled Lewis and how he had used it to taunt her. "They'll describe the whole first…assault again, the injuries, the details, for everyone to hear. They'll consult an expert to describe the effects."

"And you don't want to go through that process again?"

"No. But there's no alternative. I guess I'll go along with it" she stated, making it clear that she didn't need Lindstrom's opinion on it this time, that it had already been decided. "I can't exactly go to prison." An image of the filthy showers at Sealview popped into her mind, the memory of Harris' hands all over her body, like Lewis'. She shook the image, consciously shifting in her chair to adjust her position.

"And how are you coping with that uncertainty? Aside from the practicalities?"

"Uh…well…not great" she admitted. "I can't work, so I try to keep busy with my defence, preparing for the hearings. And people call me, people like Nick, they're real good about it all. But then, at the end of the day, I still have to go home and then it's just me. Just me and my thoughts at the apartment. And I can't really focus on trivial things, things like books or TV or any of that. So it just keeps coming back to rumination, going through it over and over again. And I know that that's bad" she clarified, addressing her therapist directly, "but it's just what happens."

"You've been through a lot" he qualified her statement. "It's understandable that you're trying to make sense of it."

"I can't sleep. Well, sometimes, I do eventually fall asleep, but herbal remedies aren't cutting it, really. So I have a glass of wine or two, but that doesn't really help, either. It's hard to get out of bed in the morning, because there's nothing to get up for. I just wake up, alone, drink a ton of coffee. I've tried to maintain a structure, a daily routine." She felt silly saying it, as if she were a child fishing for praise. "But there's nothing to get up for, and nothing to come home to. It doesn't really matter if I do the dishes or not."

"There's a sense of purposelessness?"

"Completely."

"Is there anything that has helped you when you've felt like that before?"

"Working, but that's out of the picture right now." She racked her brain, but none of the old rules applied anymore. Focusing on the job wasn't an option. Making changes wasn't an option, not while she was in limbo about the future. "Brian" she said, cringing inwardly at the weakness in her dependency. "Just having him there last time, not being alone, helped so much. Because he could have run from all of it –I expected him to, to be honest- but he didn't. He stayed. And I had to make an effort to keep it all together, not just because of him, but because I wanted it to work. I miss him."

"Do you keep in contact?"

She shook her head. "Not really. The worst part is, he offered to move back in – not that he's really moved out yet, his stuff is still there. He wanted to be there, in spite of everything."

"And what did you want?"

"Of course I want him there. But not like that. Not because he thinks he needs to save me, I can't do that to him again. We'll just keep turning in circles forever and ignoring the problems. So I told him I needed space to deal with this. It's better this way, for both of us."

"For both you and him?"

She didn't like the insinuation in the question. "Someone needs to make a decision. I don't want us to get stuck simply because we're too afraid of being alone. I don't want him to feel like he has to be with me. And he was relieved when I told him, I could tell from his reaction. That was the worst part. But…" She tucked a strand of stray hair back behind her ear. "…it makes you wonder, all of this. I could lose my shield, and that's really everything I've focused on. I wanted more, but…life's too short."

"It's not over yet."

"It makes you wonder, though, what remains at the end of the day."


	41. In Limbo

He opened the passenger door for her in an unusually gallant gesture.

"Nick…" she groaned. There was no need to give her the satin glove treatment. "Thanks."

Once she had gotten into the car, her partner returned to his side to sit down behind the steering wheel, but didn't turn the ignition key. She wished he would, if only so the heating would come on. A lighter spring coat had definitely been a questionable choice today, which, if she was completely honest, was partly the reason why she had accepted Nick's offer to give her a ride home after Murphy had basically told her to get lost. She had a feeling he was involved in Nick's offer as well, as a way of making sure she actually went home, but she could be overthinking it there.

"So how did it go?" her partner asked, rubbing his hands together. Evidently, she wasn't the only one feeling cold.

"Apparently, Lieutenant Murphy doesn't believe honesty is the best policy."

"Who knew" he commented ironically.

"He wants me to tell the story it's supposed to be." It was the dramatic, heroic version of events where she bravely saved an innocent child under threat of her own life and killed the villain because there was no other way. Justifiable homicide, case closed. The only problem with it was that it wasn't the truth. There was no neat story arc. She hadn't killed anyone, and the real sequence of events was almost too crazy to believe.

Nick tilted his head, weighing his words. "Could be his experience talking. He's got a lot of it. So do you, obviously" he added, as if acknowledging Murphy's competence was somehow a betrayal of her. Nick was nothing if not a loyal partner, however much he might be struggling with following orders.

"Maybe."

"I mean I'm not so sure about him, but if he's telling you what IA want to hear…he could be looking out for you."

"He's doing what I would do, which is damage control and avoiding ramifications for the entire department. That doesn't mean it's right."

He looked at her somberly, in the same intense way he had been catching glimpses at her sideways when he thought she wouldn't notice ever since they had found her in the abandoned granary. "You could lose everything. Keep that in mind, with everything you tell them."

She exhaled, looking up at the ceiling to escape his gaze. "It's the first thing on my mind, always. But I've made certain choices and I have to carry the consequences of my actions. And then there are things I didn't do, and these things I can't take responsibility for."

"Maybe, in a perfect legal system. But we both know that's not how it will work if you don't go with the protocol here. And it's not just your life, if IAB decides against you, you know they'll examine every single case you've ever touched, all the good work you've done. It could help sex offenders win their appeals, they could come after you for things where you did nothing wrong-"

"Stop it" she asserted firmly. He knew how to play on her conscience, but putting the responsibility for all the cases she had ever worked, for every victim and perpetrator she had ever interacted with, on her right now, was too much. She couldn't take that on as well. "I've spent my entire working life in the NYPD. We're supposed to possess integrity. I can't walk around holding everyone to one standard, and myself to another. I can't lie."

"Liv, I was at the…the crime scene" he stumbled over the word, "both times. No, please, hear me out. What he did to you…whatever you've said or done since, whatever you say is the truth now, is nothing in comparison. Don't let him hurt you even more."

She let his words sink in. She suddenly noticed that he still had a booster seat in the back of the car, which was surrounded by bread or cookie crumbs. He was sure to miss his daughter. The realization of everything this past year had held in store for both of them saddened her. "I'll tell the truth" she muttered quietly. "Including everything Lewis did. I hope that's enough."

"Me too. But-"

"We shouldn't even be discussing this; you know that" she reprimanded him, making it clear that they were finished with the topic. "Should we get going?"

He opened his mouth again and closed it, turning on the engine, and indicated, inching out of the tight parallel parking space. They drove in silence for a few moments, and she relished the much-needed break from talking, explaining and defending herself. Nick switched on the heating, and she held her icy fingers to the air blower. They seemed to thaw instantly, and as their ability to feel returned fully, the reality of the car and her presence in it grew on her. She was still here. Her fingers differentiated between hot and cold. She felt, therefore, she was.

"So how have you been holding up?" her partner inquired out of the blue, and she realized that he had probably spent the past couple of minutes gathering up the courage to ask her.

"I'm…holding up." She didn't really know what to tell him. She didn't want him to worry even more, wishing he could forget everything he had seen and heard over the radio, but claiming that things were fine would be a cheap brush-off. "I'll be better once all this is over."_Unless I lose my job._ Or not. Once these proceedings were over, this last fight with Lewis would technically be over, and the gravity of everything that had happened would probably hit her more fully.

"You know, if there's anything I can do, I'm here for-"

"I know, Nick." She smiled at him. "You are." There were good things in her life still, she reminded herself. Good people. She tried to hold on to that idea, to cling to these positive moments of friendship and comfort. One day, she knew, they would be enough to sustain her again. At least she hoped so.

"Are you still seeing that therapist?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"And Cassidy? I mean, has he been around?"

It was the question she had known would come next. That didn't make it any easier. "Uh, well, we split up."

"He bailed on you in the middle of all this?!" Nick blurted out.

"No" she replied, irritated at his automatic assumption that it had to have been Brian who had left her, and not the other way around. She wouldn't let Nick somehow turn him into the bad guy in all this. "It's not like that. We ended it before Lewis escaped from prison. I ended it. We both did."

"Oh." He seemed perplexed. "I just assumed, because I saw him at the hospital."

"He was there for me when Lewis got out. He was supportive."

"But not anymore?"

She didn't feel like having a heart-to-heart girl talk with her partner. He hadn't exactly been honest about his relationship with Maria, so she gave him the basic version of the story. "He wanted to stick around. I told him I needed space. He stopped calling."

"Maybe he just doesn't know what to say."

She raised her eyebrows. That was the last reply she would have expected from him of all people. "Really, Nick…?"

"I know, Cassidy and I, we're not going to be best buds, okay. But back at the hospital…" He chewed on his lower lip.

"Back at the hospital, what?" They had suddenly shared their feelings in an intimate conversation? As curious as she was about this, it left her slightly uneasy.

"I just never thought I'd see him cry. I mean the first time, when you went missing for four days, he was terrified. Then he was just glad you were alive, as we all were. But that second time, the moment he found out you went after him, he lost it-"

"You _told_ him that at the time?"

"We were trying to find you!"

"He didn't need to be pulled into it."

He grunted. "Believe me, he's already in it."

"I wouldn't have told him, or anyone, about what I was going to do." She was trying to make a point, not only with regards to Brian.

Nick seemed to pick up on it, as his thick eyebrows furrowed. "You could have told someone. I'd have gone with you."

"And jeopardized the girl's life?"

"Better than jeopardizing two lives. It wouldn't have had to be a big deal, no official operation. I'd have gone with you on my own if you'd asked."

"I know. And I also know that Lewis would have killed Amelia without blinking. She was nothing but leverage to him." Once again, she was forced to defend the choices she had made. She couldn't expect him to understand.


	42. Giving In

She had gone over the possible conversation starters in her head, ranging in tone from urgent to aloof. There wasn't an optimal way of doing this. She could always blame it on the alcohol later, but she hadn't had that much to drink, only one glass of wine, and her head was clear enough to realize that what she was doing was selfish and needy. She didn't really want to talk. That hadn't changed. All she wanted was not to feel alone. To be distracted. She could call Nick instead, but he would get all worked up about it and she couldn't let him see her like this. He would want to talk about it all, discuss strategy, and that wasn't what she needed right now. Besides, Rita had warned her not to discuss the case with her colleagues.

So when Brian picked up the phone, his surprised "Liv! Hi!" was a welcome change.

"Hey. Are you busy?" She settled back in the corner of the couch, drawing her knees up to her chest and covering them in a blanket.

"No, no, I'm not. What's up?"

She stalled. She couldn't tell him. His voice was so bright, she didn't want to ruin the moment. "Nothing. Just…saying hello." The words sounded stupid coming out of her mouth. They had become jumbled in her head. She was unable to form a coherent thought.

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah. You too." She sniffed involuntarily, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. Great, now she had gotten a mascara stain on it.

"Liv? What's going on?" His tone instantly switched from relieved to worried.

She remained silent, trying to slow down her breathing and holding the phone away from her mouth so he wouldn't hear.

"Are you crying?"

"No" she lied.

He waited for an explanation, but none came. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No."

"I'll come over. Just give me an hour, I'm kind of far out."

"No, please, don't. Really." She couldn't handle seeing him right now, not like this. She had always had a problem with crying in front of him, and once she let that guard down, she might not be able to stop. "Just don't hang up."

"Okay" he replied uncertainly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"All right."

"Tell me something about your day."

"What? Why?"

"Please, Bri, just anything." She wanted some shred out of an ordinary person's life she could picture. Any story of his she could focus on was one more moment she wouldn't have to spend thinking about the impending investigation, about how close she was to losing everything. "How have you been?"

"I'm good. I'm staying at Ryan's place. He's letting me crash as long as I help him build his motorcycle. That could take ages though; I think he gets his instructions from google. Um…" He was trying hard to list random things. "He has a dog, one of those little yapping ones, going by the ridiculous name Zorro. It hates my guts."

"Does it?" She barely attended to what he was telling her, but the steady flow of words had a soothing quality.

"Between him and the budgies, it's like a noisy zoo in there. But we get along."

"Good" she answered hollowly.

He faltered. "Liv, I'm worried about you. I'm coming over."

"No" she asserted more rigidly. "Don't, I'm serious."

"Are you okay? I heard about the IAB investigation…"

"At least that's over now."

"They closed it already?"

"You didn't hear?" She had simply assumed he would know, working in IA. They wouldn't let him get anywhere near this case, but she had imagined he would still get the basic information. Then again, it had only happened today.

"What did they decide?" he pressed her.

"Inconclusive."

"What?" This seemed to stun even him into silence for a moment. "The evidence didn't clear you?"

"The M.E.'s report was ambiguous. Gunshot residue worked against me. Me confessing on TV didn't help."

"But they didn't make a definitive decision? No outcome they were pursuing?"

"They wanted to go with the justifiable homicide angle."

"Oh."

"I told them I didn't shoot Lewis." She had regained her composure now that she was explaining plain facts.

"Liv-"

"It's the truth. Anyway, it's done now. And because I told the truth, there'll be a Grand Jury investigation now. They'll decide whether to charge me."

"Fuck." Fuck indeed. Not the eloquent response she had hoped for, but a fair assessment of the situation. She hadn't truly believed it would come to this until today.

"My rep thinks it could go to trial."

"They have no interest in this going to trial, no one does" he uttered urgently. "Even the DA won't want that kind of scandal."

"The DA will do his job. Police brutality is an election issue."

"Police brutality…" he repeated cynically. It sounded insane; bringing the term together with her own behaviour was something she still found hard. That wasn't her. She didn't do that kind of thing. Even when she had beaten Lewis to a pulp, it had been like someone else doing it, another person, as if she had walked out of the room at that point. A part of her was starting to believe her own lie that he had broken free of his restraints.

"It could go either way, depending on the jury. You know how these things go; there'll be no screening for bias, no judge, no presentation of the defence." In many ways, a Grand Jury investigation gave her the worst possible chances. She had no control over what the jury would ask or which evidence they would consider.

He couldn't neutralize that. There was no way to talk it up. "But that child, the girl, was there with you."

"She didn't see anything, I made sure of that."

"She knows what he put her through. Both of you" he added uneasily.

The memory of Amelia tied up sent shivers down her spine. "He destroyed her family, her life." And now she would have to testify to that and tell a group of strangers about everything Lewis had done to her mother, her sister and her, how he had repeatedly threatened to rape her like he had her sister –did she have to watch that, too?- and how she, a police officer, had come to help her but really, things had spun out of control from there. She wondered if the girl was strong enough to answer detailed, intrusive questions about that. Who was taking care of her now?

"-Olivia? Are you still there?" Brian had been talking, she realized. She hadn't heard a word of it. He was using her full name to get her attention. The cocktail party effect.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay."

"I'm not sorry he's dead." It seemed important to explain this. "But I didn't kill him and I can't say that I did. Everyone failed and he got out and people got killed and…hurt."

"Liv…" he halted. "What happened when you got to that abandoned building?"

A wave of dread filled her. She suddenly felt an urge to distance herself from him physically, which was impossible as he was already somewhere else. His voice was too close to her. "I can't."

"Whatever it is" he continued gently, clearly trying to tread as lightly as possible, "you can tell me."

"No, I can't." _Lewis' hands on her breasts. The sharp edge of the table._ They were realities, sensations she lacked the words to describe. Things she would never describe over the phone, least of all.

"I won't think differently of you or anything." A promise that was impossible to keep, she knew. Dear God, what kind of horror images was he playing in his mind?

"It's not what you're thinking" she replied reluctantly. "But please, don't push me. You don't need to know. I don't want to talk about it." She felt betrayed by his question, caught off guard by the sudden inquisition. He had never asked her, last time, what had happened to her, not directly. He had to have pieced a fair part of it together from her injuries, her nightmares, some of the things she had told him in those long nights with him sitting up with her. She had kept him far away from the trial for a reason. He had accepted her decision not to tell him everything, as difficult as that had to have been for him. He had understood when she had said that's what she had a therapist for. That had meant so much to her. Why did he need to know now? She wasn't injured, wasn't dependent on physical care, jumpy and confused like last time.

"Okay" he gave up. "Maybe now isn't such a good time."

"Maybe it's not such a good time for that, ever" she responded harshly.

He simply took it, not even reacting to her anger. Why did he have to be so good? "I'll stop by soon."

"No, don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't…because I need to focus on this investigation. I know, I know, I called you, not the other way round, and thank you, really, for everything, but that doesn't change anything." She was being a total bitch to him, she knew. "I need to deal with this on my own."

She suddenly heard background noise at the other end of the line, laughter, running footsteps, a child's voice shouting "Uncle Brian!" and someone else hushing in the background before the sound stopped abruptly. Had he just covered the receiver with his hand? She felt like an idiot. She hadn't even considered that he might have company, that he still had a life and she might be keeping him from enjoying it. "Brian?"

"Sorry, I'm here." The background was quiet again, but his voice had changed. He was only semi-attentive.

"You're busy. I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

"No, I'm not busy, don't apologize-"

"You're with the kids-"

"I'm at Jessica's, yeah, but it doesn't matter-"

"It does. Go be with your family." The word "family" pricked as she articulated it. "We were done anyway."

"I'll call you soon" he promised.

"No, don't call, don't come by, please." She had made a decision and she would stick by it.

"Fine" he replied, irritated. "Will you let me know how the Grand Jury goes, or is that overstepping the line, too?"

"I'll let you know. Thank you."

"Take care."

"You too. Bye."


	43. Packing

It was the card that had started it. All because of one card. She hadn't meant to show it to him, but when he was there with her, taking a lost look around, unsure where to start, it had been too tempting not to. It had seemed wrong not to share something that would have meant a lot to both of them.

"_I- _we _got this card from Bali the other day."_

"_Bali? Who's in Bali?"_

_She pulled it out from under the vase on the coffee table where she kept it. It was silly to keep it there rather than in a drawer somewhere, but sometimes, when she sat down, she liked to look at it, to study the happy faces in the picture and decipher the neat, feminine handwriting. It gave her a sense of hope and vicarious joy, and, at the same time, it felt like rubbing salt into an already sore wound. "It's from Cragen and Eileen."_

"_Oh. Are they doing good?" His expression shifted as soon as he opened the beautiful floral card and a photograph nearly fell out. He took far too long to read the brief message in the card before looking at the picture of the beaming couple in colourful vacation attire, posing in a close embrace on a gorgeous deserted beach. A crooked smile spread across his face, accompanied by a tinge of something else. She liked to imagine that it was the same regret she felt. "They look so happy."_

"_Yeah." Her throat felt constricted, and when he finally glanced up from the card to meet her gaze, she quickly began to gather up some papers she had spread out on the coffee table and return them to her bag so he wouldn't notice the tears in her eyes. "They deserve it."_

"_They do. Married, huh?"_

And here she was, half leaning against, half lying on her ex-boyfriend's chest, each of them with one arm wrapped around the other, his right hand stroking her hair. She could feel his breathing, and the steady motion, the flow of air, calmed her, made her feel almost sleepy…if it weren't for the nagging thought that she really shouldn't be cuddling with her ex on the day he had chosen to move out of their joint apartment. It wasn't that they were doing anything hugely inappropriate, anything that could actually _mean _something like goodbye sex, and they certainly hadn't parted ways on bad terms, but this was not only masochistic, it also wasn't fair to him. But she needed this, they both did, and she didn't want to think. She didn't want him to get up and start packing, and she really didn't want to have to watch him walk out.

He had called her on a Thursday, a week after the conclusion of the Grand Jury investigation. In hindsight, it probably hadn't been a coincidence. Apparently, a week was the time and space he had decided to give her after she didn't call him to tell him about the result, after they hadn't talked and he hadn't come by, just as she had asked him not to. It had been a rough week, even though she had gotten her badge back. A week of coming down from the adrenaline high and growing to realize that Lewis was gone for good, and just how close she had come to losing everything. _Click._ _33.3% chance of death._

It had hit her out of the blue, although it really shouldn't have come as a surprise. They had broken up a while ago and she had made it fairly clear to him that she wanted to keep her distance. A man could only live on one suit, a few shirts and jeans for so long, so Brian picking up his belongings was the inevitable thing. She simply hadn't expected it to be so peaceful and smooth. They hadn't really talked about it, it seemed like he had simply decided that he would find a new place to live, that he didn't, as he had put it, want to "hang on to it". She had told him that it was fine with her, that if that was what he wanted, it was all good, that he could come by to pick up his stuff while she was at work –more than once, in case he didn't get the hint- but he had insisted on meeting her. It was supposed to be a clean disentangling, civil and amicable without dispute. Conscious uncoupling, wasn't that the new fashionable term for it? The last thing she wanted to do was argue with him over who would get the silverware or who had paid for the glasses (she had). He could take it, take the TV, take all of it as long as he would just do it quickly and she wouldn't have to stand there, watching their new life together come apart after only a few months.

Lying here like this in his warmth wasn't going to speed up that process. It was the lazy way out.

"I love you" he mumbled into her hair. It was a sad, quiet acknowledgement of the two years between them, of how much they had been through together. It was goodbye.

She blinked. "I love you, too, Brian."

He kissed the top of her head, as he had done so many times before.

"_Hey, Liv." He stood in the door awkwardly after ringing the bell for no good reason, some folded up cardboard boxes pinned under his arm. He still had keys. _

"_Hi. Come on in." She moved aside to let him pass._

_He looked her up and down before stepping into the apartment. "You look good."_

"_Thanks." She had made an effort on purpose even though it was just a casual Sunday, putting on a soft day make-up, doing her hair, dressing well enough to look her regular self in brown pants and a loose apricot top, but not too well so it didn't seem like she was trying. She wanted him to see that she was okay, that this was okay. She wasn't the tearful mess who had phoned him anymore. The apartment, too, was spotless, as she had put in a cleaning session last night after work, trying to find some of his more hidden belongings. "You too."_

_That part was a lie. She didn't know what had been going on with him lately, but he seemed to have lost some weight which, at his size, wasn't a good thing. Brian was one of those people she envied who could eat and eat without gaining weight, even at their age. "I know" he replied jokingly, and she smiled to humour him. _

"_You're still staying at Ryan's?"_

"_Partly, I've moved around a bit. Spent some time at Jessica's." He moved further into the living room to look around, rubbing his palms against his jeans before turning around to face her again. "How are you doing?"_

_She shrugged. "Okay. You know. I haven't been charged. I haven't lost my job. I'm still here. I can move on."_

_He nooded. "I was so glad when I heard."_

"_The whole thing is over now. How have you been?"_

"_Me? Uh, fine. Nothing going on, really." It would have been easier if he had told her some small, insignificant detail of his life, so the ice could be broken. But small talk had never been their strength. _

"_I got some boxes from our move from the basement." She walked over to the wall she had leaned them against. "Found some packing materials, too." These were the easy, practical matters she could focus on._

"_Thank you." He tried to lean his boxes against the other ones. They slid right down to the floor, and he had to pick them up again. "I have some more in the car."_

"_And I guess we still have to sit down and figure things out in terms of the furniture. I can make a list over the next few days of the items we bought together and then-"_

"_Don't worry about it; there's no rush" he cut her off, a little abrasively. _

"_Do you already have a new place?"_

"_Not yet. But I can store some things at my sister's place; she has a big basement." There was a pointless idea. It made no sense, logistically, to move twice. Unless he was trying hard to cut his ties with her. That stung. _

"_You can leave some things here until you have a new place. I don't mind."_

"_Thanks." Why did he keep thanking her? If the situation were reversed, he would do the same thing. He wandered over to the sideboard, picking up that ugly, carved wooden lizard thing he had once brought from Oaxaca. _

"_Oh yes, please take that with you, I beg you" she said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood._

_He chuckled. "You seriously thought I wouldn't notice when you moved it." He set it down again, making it face the wall. _

_This was dangerous, walking down memory lane was clearly not the way to go. She wished he would tape together a box already and get on with it. Why couldn't she be called into work the one time it was convenient? Should she give him a hand? He wasn't the most organized packer, but she wasn't sure what the protocol was here. She couldn't very well sit down to watch TV and ignore him. This was all new territory to her, and she suspected to him as well, from the way he stood around, at a loss where to begin. He met her eyes, and as she averted her gaze, it fell on the envelope tucked under the vase on the coffee table. _

"_I- _we _got this card from Bali the other day."_

She didn't know who was to blame for it, but at some point, the embrace turned significantly less innocent. He was still stroking her hair, and as she lifted her head to look at him, his face was so close to hers, too close. His hair had grown a bit again, she noticed. It looked better this way, more like before. She could feel a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she brought her hand to his cheek, feeling a hint of stubble. He turned his face slightly in response and kissed her palm, then leaned in and planted soft kisses on her temple, her cheek…and her lips. A rush of electricity ran through her, and she could feel the tingling sensation spread from her face down her neck and spine, her arms right down to her fingertips. _This is wrong._ A yearning began to build in the pit of her stomach as she reciprocated, keeping him from breaking the kiss. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and his hand was still tangled in her hair as his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. The kiss intensified, much like those eager kisses they had shared on his sofa at the beginning of their secret relationship. His lips felt rough, and he tasted like those glacier breath mints he was practically addicted to.

"No, no."


	44. Stuck

"No, no." He suddenly pulled back in a rush, freeing his arm from behind her and sitting up.

"Damn it." She pushed herself up with one hand, scooting away from him.

He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands with his elbows on his thighs. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" She smoothed her shirt and tried to straighten out her hair. He needed to stop freaking out over this.

"This isn't right."

"We both wanted it."

"That's not the point!" he exclaimed in a burst of anger. "What's this supposed to be, friends with benefits? You can't end a serious relationship and go back to just hooking up like it's nothing."

"It's not nothing" she replied bewildered, struggling to understand the leap his mind had made there.

"So what, then? We do it on the couch, I pack and walk out, and that's it?" Charming. He had such a blunt way of putting things.

She suddenly felt cold and cheap, as if her body had betrayed her. "I don't know. What did you want? Some soppy goodbye scene, me being here so I can tell you not to go?""

"What? No! Jesus…I wanted to talk."

"So talk." She crossed her arms and leaned back, looking at him expectantly.

"Not like that." He shook his head. "This is all wrong."

"I'm listening."

"Remember that day when I came to pick you up after work, before-"

"I remember." She didn't need to hear him say it.

"I wanted to work things out then. I was going to think about it all, and come back from UC, and we were going to sit down when things were calm and figure all our shit out. But now…I mean, do you even want that? I don't know anymore."

She didn't know either. What she didn't want was their constant back and forth, their indecisiveness and arguments. "Things haven't exactly been calm."

"I know that." His features softened and he reached for her shoulder, but she pulled back. "You've been through a lot with Lewis and the investigation, and it's not fair to put this on you now."

"It's never a good time for us. That's the problem." She didn't like that he brought up Lewis. She had been hearing his name too much over the past couple of weeks, and just now had been the first time in days she hadn't been thinking about him. Lewis was dead, rotting in the ground somewhere in an anonymous grave. Still, even just being able to kiss Brian without being reminded of that bastard's forceful intrusion seemed like a huge achievement.

"You said you needed space to deal with it. I shouldn't have pushed you."

"Brian. Please. Leave Lewis out of it. Just talk to me, I can take it." She was sick of him treating her like she was some fragile creature waiting to shatter. They were past that.

"I can't leave that out of it. Because when you were gone, I thought 'what if that's it', what if I'd lost you, and…" He broke off. "I can't keep doing that, I'm sorry."

"Doing what?"

"Going after you, trying to get you to let me in, going with whatever choices you make…"

"I didn't _choose_ for Lewis to come after me again" she said bitterly.

"I didn't mean it like that. But since Lewis…since the first time, I mean, it feels like I'm always running after you while you're trying to make it seem like everything's okay. And I just can't keep up. I mean we move in together, and you throw yourself into work like you're trying to prove something, we have these dinner parties, but you don't talk to me, then you get upset, but the next day, you want to act like nothing happened. You call me, and then you want to me to stay away, but now you also want me here. I don't get it."

"Where is all this coming from?" He had never, not once, concretized the problem like this before. "We broke up because we both agreed we wanted different things out of life for the future."

"No, we broke up because you decided what our future was going to look like and when. And when I wasn't on the same page, that was it. As usual."

"That's not fair." She wasn't prepared to take all the blame for their failed relationship. "I didn't try to force you into having kids with me, or moving in with me, or staying with me, or any of that."

"Nope, you didn't. The opposite, more like it. And forget the kids thing, it's not that I don't want a family with you, ever-"

"That's new."

"Yeah, well, I had some time to think about it and…but that's not my point now." He seemed to need to keep talking now that he had found the courage to speak his mind. Dumping all his crap on her at once. "But there were other things that were off between us, you know that."

"I know. I just thought we'd been doing better." Somehow, the idea that they really hadn't been doing better, that, despite her efforts to communicate with him, he had somehow felt imprisoned in their relationship, made the whole thing worse. This newfound openness of his was supposed to be a good thing, but it sure as hell didn't feel good to her.

"We were, and still, you didn't seem happy. You didn't look happy. It was like that whole baby idea was a way of fixing things for you, and all the other problems were just supposed to go away."

"But you never told me what the problem was for you" she answered, frustrated with his expectation that she was somehow supposed to know what was going on inside his head.

"That's what I'm trying to do!"

"Well, I'm sorry if I wasn't…cheerful enough after the year we've had."

"No, it's not-"

"I'm not going to be the same I was before. Ever." And maybe, just maybe, the new her and the new him weren't right for each other. Which was something they had been too afraid to say, a question that was too forward for either of them to ask. It was the instinctive fear she had been carrying around somewhere on the threshold to consciousness, the certainty Lewis had taken from her that she could still love people enough, that she could still be loved.

"I know" he replied, looking dejected. "And I wanted to help you so bad, but you…everything I did seemed to be wrong." She remembered how, in the old days, he had struggled in dealing with victims of sex crimes, how this stuff got to him and how hard it was for him to express himself.

"That's not true, Bri." She put her hand on his forearm. "You got me through the worst time in my life. It's just not…it's a long process. I tried the best I could."

"I know you did." He covered her hand with his, squeezing her fingers. "I don't want to be an ass and I'm not telling you to 'get over it already'. But I have to be honest with you, and with everything you've been through, it's like I can't."

"Of course you can. I'm just not sure I understand. If I've been too absent since Lewis, if surviving through bad times is all we have between us-"

He shook his head. "The problem goes back way further than Lewis. You're always calling the shots. It's who you are, Liv." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued too quickly. "And that was fine 15 years ago, and it was fine two years ago –it's what makes you so damn sexy- and it was fine when we were just having fun. We'd go to your place, or to mine, depending on what you wanted, we kept it a secret because you were embarrassed. Really, the only time we were free was when we went to the Bahamas, do you remember that?"

"I wasn't embarrassed by you" she objected. "We both agreed that we wanted to separate our private lives from work."

"But your life was work. And when Munch and Amaro found out, you were so ashamed-"

"Because I was half undressed, wearing your shirt and two of my colleagues were staring at my naked legs! Do you seriously think I'm embarrassed about being with you? We've been to NYPD functions together, we've had people over at our place-"

"To show everyone that we're okay, that you're doing okay and they can treat you normal."

"That's bullshit" she snapped, wondering if he was partly right. She had been trying to make a point about her recovery, but one thing didn't preclude the other. She had been so happy with Brian in their new apartment at first, she had wanted to share that new life with the people who mattered. It wasn't fair of him to pull all that through the mud.

"Is it?" He got up from the sofa and started to pace through the room. "When I lost my shield, you were so invested in helping me get it back-"

"Because it mattered to you! You were miserable!"

"-when we went to that boring lawyers' dinner, you briefed me about all the developments in the department before, like you were afraid I would say something stupid at the table. You didn't like the furniture at my old apartment, we'd go out to a restaurant and you'd change your mind about it at the last minute, like it's not good enough. You picked this apartment, you picked the furniture, you set dates, then cancel them, then reschedule them. You decide one day we're going to buy organic fruit from now on and tell me I'll like it…it's all you in charge, and nothing's ever good the way it is."

"You're acting like an asshole" she burst out, getting up from the sofa as well. "It takes two to mess things up, I'm not taking the blame for you being unhappy for two years and only now opening your mouth to tell me! I asked you what you wanted, and you always agreed with me, or said you didn't care, or mostly, didn't say anything at all. But we're adults, and we're not getting any younger, and at some point, someone has to make the decisions. Grow up."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm the immature one who can't possibly keep up with you, my bad" he retorted sarcastically. "You're perfect." He walked away from her into the kitchen, helping himself to a glass of water.

She followed him, unwilling to let him end this conversation now that it had finally come to this inevitable confrontation. "You're incredibly insecure, you know that? Maybe I made too many decisions, but you left me to make all the decisions. When you don't like something, you just walk out. We'd grow apart, and you would just go on some undercover mission for weeks at a time…."

"That's my job. You knew that; it's something we've always been very clear about. Our jobs matter to us." He took a long sip of water, emptying the glass and setting it down again loudly, supporting his upper body with both arms on the counter.

"But they're not everything." Sometimes, she wondered what took more work, her job or this relationship. They had both taken a huge leap by moving in together, as two people who had grown used to getting by on their own and answering to no one. "I don't want to change you, Brian, or dress you up, or buy furniture you hate. Screw that."

"I don't hate the furniture" he mumbled gruffly.

"I sometimes feel like I'm doing all the work and you only go along with it because it's easy. That you're not really invested in it. And whenever you're unhappy, you run away, saying you don't want to fight, like one fight is going to break us up."

"But it did."

"Because we were stuck." She leaned forward on the counter, her elbows turned inward. "You say I'm making all the decisions. Then tell me: What is it you want?"

"What I want…" He exhaled heavily, running one hand down his face. "I don't want to move out. I want to make this work. I want us to have a future together."

She was baffled. Hearing him verbalize it, hearing him make such a firm, definitive statement so untypical of him, cleared some of her doubts. "Me too" she confessed. "But it won't be easy."

"Hell, no. I think we need to try to spend more time together. And talk, not just about work. And make decisions together. And I'd like…" He hesitated, looking at her. "Shit, I don't know how to say this without sounding corny."

"Try me."

"I don't want to be, you know, a footnote."

"You're not a footnote!" The formulation was, she had to admit, a tad ridiculous.

"You know what I mean, I don't want to always be on the outside. I want to know what's going on with you."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll try. But the same goes for you, you can't…just not tell me and withdraw. And we'll need to take it slow."

He walked around the counter to stand beside her. "I can't lose you again, Liv."

"Me neither."


	45. Switching

She loved changing out of her office clothes at the end of the day. On most days, the bedroom was her first destination after work, before she could sit down and become too lazy to change. It wasn't that she wore ridiculously fancy clothes or impractical shoes to work –she couldn't, really, when she was on the move all day- but ironed shirts and even blazers felt constricting by the end of the day. Exchanging them for comfy clothes was her role change. She enjoyed the feeling of being freed, as if she could shed all the cases, all her irritation with office politics and the injustices of the justice system by simply getting rid of her outfit. Brian had laughed at her once when she had told him and teased her about taking off her "superwoman suit", but she knew he felt the same way, judging from the amount of time he spent hanging out at the apartment in sweatpants. Or maybe he just liked sweatpants.

She came out of the bedroom in old jeans and a sweatshirt, trying to tie back her hair in a bun as she walked, despite the short strands that kept falling out at the sides. Much better. Brian was hogging the sofa with his legs stretched out in front of him, watching TV. Sometimes, she felt like they were such slobs. She leaned over the back of the sofa, frowning at the scene on screen. "Why are you watching a crime show? Slow day at work?" The attractive female lab technician held up a single hair into the light while talking to her equally attractive male colleague.

"They found a hair from this 30-year-old case" Brian explained, his eyes fixed on the screen, "no root obviously, but they're going to get partial DNA from it using a spectral analytic RNA reconstructor."

"A what now?" This was the reason she didn't watch TV.

"I have no idea. It's awesome TV technology so they're going to solve the case in like five minutes."

"Um, yeah, I think I'll pass." She didn't really need to come home from work to be reminded of said work in a colour-filtered fictional world. "I think I'll get dinner started."

"Thanks."

She nudged him playfully from behind. "This is the part where you're supposed to say 'I'll give you a hand'."

"I'll…do dishes later?" He glanced up at her with a puppy dog expression on his face, and she budged.

"Fair enough. Enjoy your show."

"Hey, slow down." He stopped her as she was about to walk around the couch, muting the TV as a commercial played. "How was your day?"

It had been her first real day back in the field again after the end of her tedious desk duty and the hand-over and re-organization of management responsibilities between herself and Murphy. She had been looking forward to it with trepidation. "Uh, fine. A couple of new cases on my desk, one with a few college students accusing their professor of sexual harassment, one with a man claiming date rape but his partner saying it was consensual. Classic he said…he said."

"And it's going okay?"

This was new. He didn't generally like hearing about her cases in detail. It was nice that he cared. "So far. I got the vic to agree to the rape kit, that's something." She was doing her job. Not managing, or assigning, or trying to backseat drive Murphy's command, but focusing on handling the cases she got to the best of her ability and staying out of trouble.

He scrutinized her. "I meant are you doing okay."

She sighed. "Of course I am, I've been doing this for a while." The professor was a sexist asshole, but that didn't particularly faze her. However, she couldn't help noticing that the Lieutenant had assigned all three of the new child abuse cases that had come in over the weekend to Fin and Rollins, advising her to keep the legwork restricted to her two cases and taking on more of a supervisory role on the other two. In other words, he was keeping her off the street for some of the harder stuff, for now at least. On the other hand, she knew Murphy trusted her after everything he had done to save her ass, so she wasn't going to complain. It was hard to admit, but not being commanding officer anymore was actually turning out to be something of a relief. "Stop worrying."

He smirked. "I'll try to switch it off."

She headed to the kitchen to prepare the next part of the day.


	46. Assembling

"Higher" she instructed him, glancing at the way the screws failed to line up with the holes in the wood, "no, not that high, that's too- lower, not that much! Stop!"

He lowered the desk top again, setting it on its side to wipe his forehead with his sleeve. "This isn't going to work, not with the drawers still needing to go in. We should have done the steps in the right order."

"I told you so!" she blurted out, unable to hold back. "There had to be a reason for putting on the desk top before." She had only given in to his suggestion to do it otherwise because she had remembered his complaint about how she always took charge.

"Well, maybe if they put actual _words_ into their instruction manuals instead of weird drawings, it would all make a lot more sense!"

She took in the mess before her. The floor was covered in cardboard they had spread out to protect it, and the screws, nuts and bolts that had once been neatly separated into different bowls had become all mixed up. The unfinished desk looked much larger here than it had at the store. "We so should have gotten the delivery and construction deal."

"And stayed home between 8am and 9pm to wait for it? We so don't need this desk" he insisted, observing it with visible loathing. It had taken them almost half a year after moving in to purchase a desk at all, and another week after buying it to actually unpack the parts and get around to assembling it. That had been two hours ago.

"Just think about it, no more bills or work things lying around the apartment." The entire reason they had acquired this do-it-yourself type of desk that only pretentiously matched the rest of their pricier grown-up furniture was that he had been against the idea of spending money on a desk from the start.

"If we ever finish this thing."

"Complaining about it sure won't help." She picked up the instruction manual, studying the stick figure drawings for the umpteenth time. "We need to undo the…the knobbly screws again, but they won't come out anymore once they've been fixed. If we had a magnetic screwdriver-"

"Where are we going to get a magnetic screwdriver from?"

"I don't know, we could ask the neighbours."_Or you could come up with a better idea, Detective._

"We don't know the neighbours." He was wrong about that. Sort of. She had actually met one of the men from downstairs, Russell, who had been staring at her as she was getting her mail. Olivia had stared back defiantly, and apparently, this had led to Russell gathering up the courage to talk to her. It had taken the stranger all of thirty seconds to get around to asking about her TV appearance, just under a minute to get to the question of whether she had really shot a serial killer, and, weirdly enough, just under two minutes to proceed to hit on her anyway. This had been the day she had decided that really, meeting your neighbours was overrated. It was this newfound notoriety and the awkward encounters that resulted from it, she realized, that had led her to alter her behaviour. She had stopped going to the gym, had started to avoid coffee shops – and really, avoidance wasn't her. It was weak and pointless, and only giving the past more power over her. It was time to change that.

"Maybe it's about time we got to know them." _Except for Russell, perhaps._ She sat back on her knees, straightening out her shirt, wondering about the impression they would make as just Brian and Olivia, the couple from next door who had never bothered to say hello but couldn't figure out how to put together a desk. It would be nice to simply be that, a couple sorting out their home.

"We can figure it out ourselves." Ah, so it was a pride thing for him. Interesting. He leaned the desk top against the wall and picked up the screwdriver again. "What if we put in the drawer first, then rotate it upright, then put on the desk top last?"

"If we put in the last drawer now, we won't be able to fasten the desk top to the board at the back."

"But to the sides. And I mean, does it really matter? Gravity should keep it down."

She studied the solid wooden structure they had assembled so far critically. "I think so. Let's try that."

Brian started to mouth "okay" at her, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"What?" She lightly slapped his leg with the instruction manual. "What's so funny?"

"Your face."

"Thank you very much. I just want to get this over and done with."

"No, Babe, it's not that, it's just…maybe we should have accepted Nathaniel's help after all."

"You think a seven-year-old could have done better? I'm offended."

"He is my nephew."

She raised her eyebrows. "And that makes him more talented in the construction department by genetic predisposition?"

He shook his head, still looking at her with an amused grin. "You know what Reah said when she heard we'd split up?"

"What?"

"'Oh no, what the hell did you do?!'"

"She's 14, some of the finer details may have been lost on her." She didn't know where he was going with this, what he was trying to tell her. The idea of Brian around family was still a relatively new one to her, as much as she could see that he loved those kids.

"She's pretty perceptive, actually."

"I can imagine that."

He sat back against the wall, obviously deciding that this was the right time for a break. "Seriously though, they were really disappointed, and Jess was a pain in the ass about it. She was acting like we'd been picking out china patterns or something." His tone was completely casual, and he was busy picking at a small tear in his jeans as he said it, but there was no mistaking the implications of his Brian-style of indirect communication.

She sat back on her heels, taking her time to answer. This topic set her on edge and it was the wrong time for this kind of conversation. This was the opposite of taking it slow. At the same time, it was a necessary conversation and she was positively surprised by Brian bringing up the subject, albeit in his own way, a way that was safe for both of them. "She'll be relieved then. But I think she, Jess, will also understand that we need time to sort things out, especially with regards to…a future."

"I'll make sure she understands" he replied neutrally, not betraying how he felt about her answer.


	47. Diversion

She fought her way through the crowd of children and grown-up children streaming past between the rides. On a glorious day like this, it was bound to be busy. To her left, food stall after food stall sold anything from cotton candy over hot dogs to roasted almonds. The smells became all mixed up, leaving a general air of hot grease and burnt sugar in the vicinity that was occasionally relieved by a light sea breeze. To her right, a gigantic orange rollercoaster loomed, glistening in the sun with an insanely long queue in front of it. It was a good thing Brian had picked up the kids early, leaving her to finish up some things at home and join them around lunch time. Loud music boomed over the delighted chatter and squeals, emanating from a nearby Breakdance ride, to the point where she could actually feel it in her stomach. It was starting to give her a headache. She tried to screen the crowd for familiar faces, but the sea of people blended into each other, and really, she couldn't imagine a worse place to meet up.

"Oh, sorry!" A gangly boy bumped into her and hurried off again.

Amusement parks really weren't her thing. They were crowded, chaotic and full of the kind of "fake thrill" she didn't crave. Coney Island in particular held negative memories for her, and the distorted faces painted on the rides, the haunted houses and repetitive music unsettled her on a visceral level. Down by the sea, pretend playing, having fun… It was easy to hide in the anonymous mass, easy to snatch a child away - okay, no, she really shouldn't even be thinking about all that. _'Ah, but remember that the city is a funny place, something like a circus or a sewer…'_ She was determined to make the best of this day, to make sure her boyfriend's niece and nephew had a good time and to switch off everything else on her mind. It had been Brian's idea to take them here, as Nathaniel loved it and it had been his birthday the previous week. It was supposed to be a nice outing on a Saturday they would have otherwise spent home alone with their mother on a ten hour work shift. Of course, it had fallen to Olivia to research activities and opening hours, to do the actual organizing, which was just typical. "On the orange rollerc. meet u exit." Not a very specific text message to send if you were trying to find someone in the middle of an amusement park.

"Olivia! Olivia!" She was pulled out of her thoughts by a girl's voice, and spotted Reah waving wildly above the heads of all the people streaming out of the ride in front of her, trying to squeeze past.

Olivia waved back and stepped to the side a bit, letting the wave of people pass. The girl beamed at her as she approached.

"Hey, Reah!" It felt natural to pull her into a brief hug. "Good to see you. Oh, I like the new hair."

"You do?" Reah touched the ends of her hair self-consciously, tugging it behind her ear. "Brian hates it." She threw an accusing glance at her uncle, who was behind her.

"When did I say that?"

"Um, like, the second I opened the door?"

He put his hands on his hips demonstratively. "Whoa, all I said was 'it kind of looks like flames'. That's not an insult."

"You said 'oh'." She mimicked a critical, low utterance. "'Oh, it looks like flames'."

Olivia couldn't entirely disagree with him on that, although she decided to keep that thought to herself. Reah, who was wearing her hair down and parted in the middle now, had dyed only the lower third a brighter, darker red colour than the rest of her natural, ginger hair.

"Flames are pretty great." He put his arm around Olivia. "Glad you found us."

"It wasn't exactly easy."

Reah turned to shout at her brother, who had fallen behind while struggling to fit some sort of collecters' cards into his jeans pocket. "Hey, get a move on."

"Hi there, Nat" Olivia greeted him.

"Hi!" The little boy ran up to them when he spotted her, grinning. "You came!"

"Of course I did." It was sweet that this somehow pleasantly surprised him. "Happy belated birthday!" She held out a shiny helium balloon shaped like a shark that she had quickly grabbed on her way. Brian had taken the actual birthday card and present – she hoped so at least.

"Thank you!" He took it from her, pulling at the string to look at the balloon close-up. "Cool! He looks just like Bruce!"

"Bruce?"

"From Finding Nemo. 'Fish are friends, not food.'"

His shark voice earned him a groan from his sister, who apparently wasn't hearing this for the first time.

"Oh, Mom says hi and to say thank you" he added dutifully.

"You're supposed to say 'thank you' at the end of the day" Reah corrected his recitation, not unkindly.

"You're welcome either way." They started walking, or rather, they were "being walked" out of the way by the continuous stream of people leaving the rollercoaster. Brian's arm slipped from her shoulders as they struggled to stay together in the crowd. "So that thing looks deadly" she commented, pointing up at the many loopings. Was an eight-year-old boy even tall enough to go on that ride? Had Brian checked? Surely, the people checking the tickets would have noticed. "Anyone puke?"

"Nuh-uh" Nathaniel replied, appalled at the question. "Not us. This girl in front of us screamed though."

"Aren't you supposed to scream on a rollercoaster?"

"Not like her. Reah screamed, too."

The teenager gasped in mock outrage. "So did you, little minion."

"Did not!"

"Did, too" she laughed, avoiding her younger brother's weakly aimed punch at her side.

"Hey, all I know is I screamed like a girl" Brian interjected, smoothing over the teasing.

"Like a girl?" Reah asked critically.

"Oh, come on, it's a figure of speech."

"So which other rides have you been on?" Olivia asked, trying to move away from the nitpicking.

"This one" Nathaniel pointed out happily.

"Twice" Brian added, exchanging a long look with her which suggested that twice was more than enough in his book.

Reah opened her mouth. "And the house of horrors-"

"-they had actors in it, like real people jumping out at you-" her brother interrupted with delight.

"-and that bouncy thing where you're inside a ball, that was cool, the Pirate Ship, the Icarus…I think that's it."

"Wow, that's a lot." She was glad to see that Reah seemed to be enjoying this trip just as much as the little boy. She had been worried that the teenager might get bored and have very little interest walking around an amusement park with two adults and her baby brother, but it didn't seem like it. At least her phone remained in her purse so far. "So where are we off to now?"

Nathaniel skipped ahead, pointing to a set of steep, bright blue tracks visible above the heads of people. "We said one more rollercoaster before lunch, right, Uncle Brian? Before lunch, 'cause otherwise…"

"I get it. We don't want lunch reversal."

"Are you gonna come on the rollercoaster?"

"Uh…" she sighed.

"It's not scary! You can scream if you want!"

She smiled at that half-heartedly. Rollercoasters probably weren't the best idea. She had been plagued by stomachaches and nausea recently, no matter what she ate, to the point where she had finally gone to see a doctor this week and she had diagnosed her with a mild case of gastritis, telling her to stay away from acidic foods and beverages and "avoid stress".

"Please, Olivia?" Reah pleaded. "It'll be fun."

"I'll take a look first, then decide, okay?"

"Yes!" The kids hurried ahead, squeezing past other people.

"Hey, stay close! Not too far!"

"We're just checking out the prizes at the shooting range" the girl called back, pointing out the brightly coloured stall.

"All right."

At that moment, she jumped at a sudden clanging sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that someone had hit the high striker game with a sledge hammer, causing it to turn on an automatic, taunting voice. "Weak! You can do better! If you want to defeat the king of the hammer, try harder! Can you play the game?" _Play the game_…her heart raced, but she quickly regained her composure, swallowing the burst of irrational anger at an inanimate object.

"You all right?" Brian asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Yeah" she said brightly, hooking her arm into his. She wasn't going to ruin this day in any way. "Let's catch up with the kids."


	48. Connecting

"Are you sure now is a good time to talk?" she asked, taking his constant fidgeting to be a sign of distraction.

"Yeah, sure."

"We can just catch up tomorrow." She wouldn't mind that, actually. She didn't particularly feel like talking today, not after everything that had gone down.

"No, no, sorry, I'm here." He put down the phone he had been stealing glimpses at somewhere she couldn't see it.

"Is everything all right?" Reading non-verbal behaviour through a screen wasn't the easiest thing. She didn't love talking to him like this, via video call, but it was better than not talking at all, so they had decided to give this ipad conference thing a try whenever they could.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." He certainly looked it, although that might be the close-up perspective and the awkward lighting in the tiny hole where he was staying.

"Case going okay?"

"It's fine" he stated curtly. She knew he couldn't tell her more than that about his work, but it still frustrated her. He really hadn't wanted to go this time, but he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter and it had all happened so quickly.

"And you're careful?"

"I'm never careless on purpose." A simple "yes, of course" would have been more reassuring. "What's new with you?"

"More trouble at work" she told him bitterly. "More legal trouble, more trouble with IAB, go figure." The one good thing about Brian being sent away again was that he couldn't be involved in any investigations going on in their department, which made their conversations less awkward.

He frowned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's not me." Yet something kept her from saying who it was, what it was about. Her first impulse on getting home had been to vent to Brian about everything that had happened, to rage about the injustice of it all. But what would that change? It would be dumping her shit on him while he was undercover and had enough things to worry about. He didn't want to hear about things like that, and if she told him, they would disagree about it, and the whole thing would turn into another pointless argument, with both of them feeling worse at the end than they had at the beginning. If you kept bringing your work trouble home, you would end up losing your refuge. Boundaries, she reminded herself, work-life boundaries, as Lindstrom constantly told her. Why was that so damn hard?

"Murphy's handling it?"

"He is." The Lieutenant had more than proven his ability to stand up to tough questions. The question was who he would stand up for this time, and when his personal limit would be reached.

"You get along with him?"

"Sure. We work well together."

He tilted his head, clearly taken aback by something in her tone. "Very convincing."

"He's just" she sighed, "I don't know, he's…new." She couldn't exactly pinpoint what was wrong with that, but part of her still resisted the change that had come about in the entire team dynamics through his presence. And now this, this new guy was doing constant crisis management. Things were such a mess.

"And he took your command" Brian jumped to conclusions.

"He didn't take it, he was assigned. I was always temporary and to be honest, I'm not keen on the job." She was being unfair. Murphy did listen to her opinions, and left some decisions up to her.

"You're not?"

"We were stretched thin as it was, this is the better arrangement" she admitted. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

She settled back against the cushions, drawing up her legs and setting the tablet down on them. "He acts like he has everyone figured out. He's suspicious of Fin because he's been around too long, like me, Rollins is his little fallen angel he saved, and Amaro was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow up."

Brian said nothing, and it was his silence that expressed more than anything.

"You agree with him?"

"No, I mean, I don't know. But is he so off the mark?"

"About what exactly?" She was baiting him into an argument, and she knew that it wasn't right, that he wasn't to blame for any of this IAB trouble, but she needed to hear his opinion.

"Amaro, for example." Of course. She had guessed that that was the part he would selectively tune in on. And of course, he had hit the mark.

"Nick has been through a lot this year, and I'm worried about him, but he's not a bad cop. He just isn't." She had to take his side in this case. There wasn't anyone else to do it, and Nick had always had her back, especially over the past year.

Brian's jaw clenched. She could tell he was uncomfortable with the subject, but trying to be helpful. "He's been doing this for three years, though, and it sounds like in those three years, everything went south for him. Maybe it's time for him to transfer." If only it were that easy. If she could turn back time, back to their conversation about Maria moving to California, maybe that was what she would tell Nick to do.

"Maybe, but that's his decision. He doesn't deserve to…" Go to prison. She couldn't say it. "…lose his job."

"He's wound so tightly, he shot a kid, he-"

"Even you said that was an accident." And Nick hadn't been right since then. It was blatantly obvious he hadn't, even before that, and that he needed help, but he wouldn't let anyone help him. He was like Elliot in that respect…except that Elliot had simply quit and walked out on her. Nick wouldn't do that.

Brian groaned. "Liv, you're his partner, his friend…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe that you're not the most objective judge in this case? A lot of people left this year, I get that you don't want to lose him, too." Why did everything always have to be attributed to some kind of issue she was supposed to be having? She was sick of it.

"That's not the point, I just…never mind." Maybe it was the point. "Let's stop talking about Nick."

"Come on, don't be pissed at me over that."

"I'm not" she replied, trying very hard not to be. "It's not you, it's not Murphy, it's just been a rough day."

"What's going on?"

"Look, all I'm saying is IAB hasn't exactly given us an easy time. But Murphy saved my shield, I can't exactly oppose him now."

"How exactly did he save your shield?" She had never told him the details, all that had happened in their brief time apart. It hadn't seemed necessary, now that she had closed that chapter.

"Well, I don't know exactly what he said, but he testified for me and…apparently, it turned things around. And in a way, he did what I wouldn't do, you know?"

"Ah. Yeah." A realization seemed to dawn on Brian. "Um, I hate to do this, but you probably shouldn't say more."

"I know, I wasn't going to." Talking about a potential perjury via ipad to her boyfriend who worked IAB probably wasn't the smartest idea. She hated that they couldn't talk freely like they used to.

"But whatever happened there…it was the right result. That's what matters."

"Right." She didn't want to go over the matter again. "Anyway. Now you know all my latest squad drama. How have things been with you?" She often felt like she was telling him every detail of her work life, with very little sharing going on from his end.

"Fine."

"Fine?" She smiled at him. "That's all I get?"

"You really want to hear about my work at IA right now?"

"Of course I do." Maybe. Sort of. That was what good girlfriends did, right?

"It's getting better. I mean I don't love…the politics of it. Lucky for me, they're not leaving that up to me. It's okay."

"It is?" Just a few months ago, he had complained endlessly about being assigned to, in his eyes, the lowest of the low.

"Yeah, actually."

"So do you want to stay there?" She had always just assumed that it would be a temporary thing, a way for him to get his badge back until something better came along. It was only beginning to dawn on her now that maybe, this was his "better thing". Maybe this was what he wanted to do. The idea was weird.

"I don't know…for now. It's not like I got a choice."

"What if you had a choice?"

"Jeez, Liv, that's a big 'what if'." He rubbed his eyes. "Maybe. I'm good at it. Don't know what else I'd be good at, I'm not, you know, a homicide detective or something."

She understood. Brian wasn't a detached profiler, intellectual analyst, court and media sort of guy. He didn't want to study the patterns of domestic disputes or the psyche of serial killers. He was a hands-on detective who wanted to catch bad guys, big time. His greatest strength was that he was credible because he remained authentic, even undercover, and blended into the social milieu. If there was one issue with that, it was that he cared too much, as much as he tried to distance himself by not getting overly involved. It was something they shared. "Yeah. But maybe there's something else you'd like, something new and different-"

"What's so bad about working IA?" he asked, visibly irritated. "I mean, seriously, why are you trying so hard to convince me to do something else?"

"I'm not-"

"You are!"

"Okay. Okay." She held her hand up where he could see it. "I'm sorry. There is nothing wrong with working at IAB."

"It's not my fault your squad is out of control and constantly in trouble" he snapped. It was a low blow, as he realised himself a second after saying it. There was an awkward pause. "I didn't mean it like that."

She shrugged, trying to suppress both the impulses of anger at him and herself, her feelings of inadequacy. "You're right. It's not your fault."

"Forget I said that. I just think you have a bit of a biased view of 'the rat squad'."

She hadn't called it that, not in ages. Not in front of him. She recalled that even Tucker had been rather reluctant to go after her. "Maybe. It's just...different experiences. But I think you should do what makes you happy." The words sounded as if she were reciting a line from a book to her.

"It's not that simple. I can't go back to narco, not if it means deep cover and…I couldn't do that again. But I was doing it for so long, it's like it's my world."

"I get it. I wouldn't know what else to do outside SVU."

He nodded, acknowledging their shared understanding. "It's complicated. The thing with narco is, it changes you. And sometimes…" He stared off into the distance. "Because you can't change back, you know? And I wonder what's real, like really me. When you pretend to be something for so long, what's the difference? It sounds weird, but sometimes, I _miss_ working for Ganzel. Even though I wasn't really working for Ganzel, and he tried to have me killed. Isn't that fucked up?"

She wished she could reach through the screen. "I don't know. You were there a long time. But you did everything you had to do for an assignment. You're not a drug dealer or a pimp, Bri."

He shook his head. "You don't know some of the things I've done…messed up shit…"

"That was your job." She didn't need to hear it, nor did she want to. She didn't want anything to stand between them. "You were helping to get him off the street."

"Was I? Because sometimes, I almost forgot that part of it. That I was playing a role."

"Whatever it felt like, it got the needed result. That's what matters. It's done."

"Do you know how many deals I made happen for him? How many girls wanted to get out, and I didn't do a thing about it? How much of Ganzel's dirty work I did, to protect him?

Was he seriously trying to shock her? Why now, after two years? "Brian, stop. Look at me. You're a good guy. I know you, and I'm telling you you're a good guy, okay?" She recalled how she had thrown up on his old bathroom floor once and proceeded to get irrationally angry with him for being there to see it, and he had simply cleaned it up without a word and never mentioned it again.

He paused, chewing on something.

"Bri?"

They locked eyes. "IAB's not all a conspiracy out to get you. They have good people working there, too."

"I know. They have you. Maybe staying there isn't such a bad idea." Maybe it would make him happy. Maybe, if he was happy, if she was happy, they would get a shot at being happy together.

"Just to see how it goes" he immediately diminished his statement for her benefit.

"Just to see how it goes." She wasn't an idiot. What he was actually telling her was this: He had made up his mind, and they were going to have to find a way to make it work.


	49. Living

"_And I discovered that my castles stand...upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand…I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing; Roman Calvary choirs are singing…_"She couldn't believe her ears when she stepped into the apartment. Really? It wasn't bad singing as such -she had heard him belt it out in the shower before- but it was just a little weird. She smiled to herself. Who knew the man was a Coldplay fan? A very enthusiastic one, apparently, judging from the sheer volume of the radio and how much he leaned into this song. Or maybe he was just in a good mood.

She slipped into the room along the wall. He clearly hadn't heard her come home over all this noise. What she found was Brian emptying the dishwasher, hopping back and forth between cupboards, pivoting on the spot and twirling the silverware before putting it back into the drawer. She watched him in amusement. It was an image she wanted to lock in her brain, because it was unlike him to be cute.

"_Once you_ _go there was never, never an honest word...and that was when I ruled_-" He froze when he noticed her.

She grinned at him, turning down the radio, and slowly walked over to him.

"We will never speak of this" he declared, stowing away the pile of plates he had been holding.

"Forget it! What did I miss, the Miley Cyrus karaoke?" She slipped her arms around his waist from behind, and he turned around, wrapping his arms around her.

"Missed you" he mumbled, studying her face with a slight smirk on his lips.

"Me too. You're back early, though." She hadn't expected to find him home. He wasn't supposed to come back until the weekend.

"Finished early. Thought I'd surprise you."

"Mh-hm, a nice surprise." She truly had missed him, more than she had expected to. Being apart and busy wasn't exactly a new situation for them, but something had felt different this time, their video communication had been off and what she missed, strangely, wasn't talking. It wasn't sex, either. It was the simple things, like coming home to someone, not cooking for just one person, waking up to find that he had hogged the blanket, their stupid morning arguments over trivial things born out of fatigue.

"Clearing dishes - I know how to win a woman's heart." His smile deepened the wrinkles around his eyes.

"It's all about the big romantic gestures, yes." Her fingers traced light circles on his lower back. "So you're in a good mood." This kind of lightness didn't happen nearly often enough.

"Case went well." He leaned in and softly kissed her lips.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her body relax at the physical contact, then pulled back. "I need a shower."

"What, now?" he asked disapprovingly.

"I just went for a run. I'm gross." She gestured at her sweaty shirt and began to pull the hair tie out of her hair.

"No, you're not- okay, you kind of are" he laughed, loosening the embrace.

"You don't exactly smell of roses yourself." He had clearly come straight back from work, judging from the bag that was still standing by their front door, and whatever he had been doing seemed to have entailed looking ragged.

"And that's why I get to use the shower first." He closed the dishwasher and quickly walked around the corner, leaving her standing in the kitchen.

"Aw, come on, Bri, what happened to being a romantic gentleman?"

He shrugged apologetically. "Can't switch it on on command."


	50. Thinking

She was wide awake, there was no denying it. Counting sheep really didn't seem to be cutting it anymore, and neither did counting officers in her squad, making a mental to do list or trying to think of all the criminological text books she had read over the course of her professional life. Her body felt tired, her limbs heavy, but her mind was working in overdrive, contemplating the circular nature of her existence, how everything kept happening again and again and repeating itself as if they were trapped under a bell jar with the same mixture of elements. Fucking insomnia. She thought she had been doing better, a lot better actually, but nothing seemed to produce crazy, angsty ideas like darkness and the pressure of knowing that she needed to be at work in a few hours and thinking quickly on her feet. She shouldn't be trying to force sleep. She should get up and walk around, or go and read a book, but she knew she wouldn't be able to focus, she didn't want to annoy Brian and, most importantly, she didn't want to be doing anything else. She wanted to sleep. She glanced at the alarm clock, knowing she shouldn't because it would only add pressure and distract her. Three-and-a-half hours, that was all she had left if she fell asleep right this second. Which, of course, she wouldn't now that she had taken a look. She reached out and turned the alarm around to face the wall so she wouldn't have to keep looking at the red numbers.

"Liv?" a raspy voice mumbled from the other side of the bed.

For a split second, she considered not responding. But he clearly knew she was awake, so there was no point in that. "Sorry. Go back to sleep." She had tried to refrain from tossing and turning as much as she could.

"Wasn't sleeping." She had been vaguely aware of that from his breathing, or at least, of the intermittent nature of his sleep, fading in and out in phases.

"Shh. You will. Stop talking." If they went down this road, neither of them would get any rest tonight.

She could feel him rolling around onto his side, turning to face her while bunching up the pillow under his head. "I can't sleep, either."

Technically, that wasn't true, as she wished she didn't know. Something was merely keeping him from going all the way, from staying asleep, and she really hoped that something wasn't her. "We should still try" she whispered. She wasn't making much sense, she knew, as there was no such thing as willing yourself to sleep by force, but she didn't want to talk. She was afraid of what they might say, in their moments of frustration, of fatigue, of weakness.

"Or maybe we should stop trying and relax." His eyes were on her, and despite the darkness, it irritated her that she could feel him looking at her, hear his quiet breathing so close to her, sense the body warmth radiating off him. Tonight was one of those inexplicable nights where she couldn't tolerate the closeness of him. It was too much, something that made her muscles tense up. And he could feel that, she knew, sensing her withdrawal and probably wondering if he had done anything, which he absolutely hadn't. But how could she explain that to him without hurting his feelings? It made no sense, to love someone yet be unable to stand his presence at the same time.

"What's wrong, Bri?" she asked, hoping that initiating a conversation about whatever was troubling him would signal that she cared, and would not come back to her.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking." Uh-oh.

She remained lying on her back, stubbornly looking up at the ceiling. "Work?"

"No. What about you?" he retorted tentatively, and the hesitation in his voice broke her heart, whether it was because he didn't really want to know or because he was afraid of her reaction to the question.

"I'm just…" Pondering the meaning of life? Raging at the futility of our existence? Converting to nihilism? Not really the appropriate thing to verbalize. "…nothing in particular. It's fine."

"Okay." He rolled back onto his back, increasing the distance between them.

She suddenly felt afraid that he might leave, that they might be drifting apart again, and she reached out to take his hand. He seemed surprised by that, but interlaced their fingers, holding on. This was one kind of physical contact she could tolerate. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"I'm scared" she said quietly. It was the kind of admission only lying in complete darkness after midnight could facilitate.

"Of what?"

Of not being herself anymore. Of having to make decisions that would determine the latter part of her life. Of growing old too soon. Of missed chances and changes. "Making the wrong choices. I sometimes think 'maybe I sacrificed too much for my career'. But then opportunities come and…I can't stop."

"Is that so bad? Caring about your career?"

"It takes its toll." She could sense him nodding in the darkness. "And you can't have everything. Ideally, you should, but you can't." Frequently cancelling plans with Brian had taken its toll on their relationship, nearly turning them into casual roomies. Her bond with Elliot had taken its toll on her non-existent private and love life. Her social isolation had meant she was turned down for adoption years ago. And time, time was against her on everything these days.

"Cases bothering you?"

"No. I mean yes, but no. But everything's changing so fast. Cragen left, Munch left –and now he's back, only to leave again- and then…" Then Lewis came back, disrupting her recovery, her career, her life, but leaving for good. "…and now Nick's in lock-up, and Murphy leaves in the middle of it all."

"Murphy left? You didn't tell me."

"No, I know. But he's leaving and", she exhaled heavily, "I'm in charge again. For now, anyway."

"Sounds stressful" he replied doubtfully.

"No kidding. And I still want other things, I think, but there's never a good time." There wasn't any time at all now that she was back in charge. Temporarily in charge, she reminded herself. Things were bound to improve if she got relieved, but they had just begun to settle down with Murphy. They had worked well together. Would she have that kind of luck a second time? And how was she going to help Nick?

"What other things?"

A family. But she couldn't say that, not without scaring Brian off again, yet it was also too late in her life to keep ignoring the topic. "You know, being with you. And Reah and Nathaniel, that's been nice. I want to explore other things, like taking that cross-country trip we've always talked about."

"We can still do that."

"But will we, ever?"

"We just gotta make it happen, when things are less crazy." And when would that be? When were things ever not crazy in their life?

"Yeah" she responded, defeated.

"You know, I'm scared, too" he confessed quietly.

"Of what?"

"That we won't make it." There it was. "And other things, growing old, being…tied down."

"Everyone is tied down by something or other."

"Or someone."

"I'm not tying you down" she replied, angry that he would even imply it. "You're free to leave whenever you want." Unless they had kids. If they had kids, they would be connected by something forever, and maybe that was what was putting him off, consciously or unconsciously. Maybe he wasn't Mr. Commitment.

"I don't want to leave" he said, exasperated as if he had said it a hundred times before. "But it's your call, too, and I'm not going to push you into anything. I don't want any changes to mess things up between us."

She knew the feeling. Sometimes, it was easier to avoid tough subjects than to make a decision that could change everything. "Things are always going to keep changing."

"I know." He turned his head to look at her, and she could make out his outline in the darkness, the contours of his face. "I love you." It was the first time he had told her that since the day he was supposed to move out.

"I know. I mean, me too." She squeezed his hand.

"I've been thinking about it, you know. Us having a family. It's like it's always been this big, scary idea to me. But then, when Lewis got you again…" he broke off. "And Nathaniel's birthday, when we took the kids to Coney Island. That was nice."

Nice? She had been wondering when, if ever, the topic would come up again, ever since he had mentioned between the lines that he wasn't categorically opposed to the general idea of having kids with her one day. Maybe. Which didn't exactly make it sound like he was excited at the prospect, but it was a starting point. She just wasn't sure whether it was a decision to make at 2am, or whether it was even something she was ready to jump into fully with him at this point in their lives. "Taking full responsibility for a child is different from babysitting."

"I know. I like the idea though, us with a kid. And if it's something you desperately want, maybe we can do this."

She couldn't help smiling at his sweetness, his simple way of putting things. Some days, it infuriated her how he simplified things, and other days, she loved him all the more for it. "It's not like getting a pet. It's a big commitment, and it's not like we can try it out and then change our mind about it."

"I get the point" he grunted. "No need to lecture me about it."

"It would have to be something we both want, not something we're only doing because of me." Or because she was looking for a new purpose in life.

"I do want it, it's just that the idea of a baby…it's not what I expected at this point in life."

"Me neither. But I've been doing a bit of thinking" –a bit was an understatement, but she didn't want to freak him out again now that this door had been opened- "and the fact is, there are a lot of kids out there whose parents can't take care of them, whether it's permanently or just for a time. I guess that's something that's been there at the back of my mind ever since looking after Calvin, but I always held back, waiting for a better time. I always thought I didn't have enough of a home, or that there'd be a time when everything would work out somehow, and maybe then I'd do it…" It was the sense of arriving somewhere, feeling settled at some point when things would have been "figured out", that was one of the biggest illusions of adulthood. She was only beginning to realize now that being in a relationship, having the job she wanted, having a nice apartment, all didn't necessarily constitute a "happy ending" – or any kind of ending at all. She would always be searching and reorienting.

Brian's thumb was drawing small circles on the back of her hand. "I googled it, you know."

"Googled what?"

"Requirements to become a foster parent."

"You did?" That surprised her. Apparently, he was less casual about this than she had thought. But his tone didn't sound positive.

"Ability to provide suitable care and supervision of the child at all times, that's the criterion that would get us. And then there's experience with raising children, good physical and mental health, psychological readiness to assume responsibility for a child, ability to provide a stable and meaningful relationship to a child who may have been abused or neglected….it's a long certification process and they look into everything. They'd ask questions, about us, about everything that's happened."

"I know." She had gone through a hurried version of it with Calvin, and talking to changing social workers in the Baby Doe case had made it clear to her again that the process was anything but simple, and that for a baby, in particular, they tended to want someone who stayed at home at all times. Although they couldn't exactly have been too picky with foster carers, with all the changes the poor boy had to go through. The reality was that ACS was short of suitable homes, and flooded with broken ones. "I still think kids could do worse than staying with us."

"That's not the issue. I guess it's a huge type of life changing thing, and kids who come on placements also leave again, usually. It would be a rollercoaster of ups and downs. I just think bringing a child into all this right now-"

"All this what?" She wanted to make him say it.

"_This_, you know what I mean. After everything we've been through, wouldn't it be nice to catch a break, just the two of us?"

"Yes" she was forced to admit. "It would be. I'm just concerned that there might never be a better time."

"I don't think so. Things are better already, aren't they?"

She scooted closer to him, letting go of his hand, and he lifted his arm, making room for her. Somehow, knowing that he was even considering this seriously, that he was thinking of them as a long-term thing, even that they were having similar doubts, helped. As she nestled against him, she remembered how long it had taken them to even get to that point again after Lewis, how they had literally had to inch towards any kind of physical contact in the weeks that followed. "Yes, they are."

He stifled a yawn. "We should really try to get some sleep."

* * *

><p><em><span>Author's Note<span>: Lucky 50 chapters, nearly five months of writing and still a few more scenes to go (don't worry, I will wrap this story up eventually)!_ _I just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of you (whoever you are) for sticking with this story for so long. And a particular thank you to those of you who have taken the time -often repeatedly- to review. I always read your feedback as well as your enjoyable general Bensidy comments, and I appreciate the response. It makes writing this story very rewarding, and gives me those little moments of joy when I open my email inbox. _

_And yes, of course, I likewise maintain hope against hope forever that even in the TV universe, there could be/have been a happier ending for Brian and Olivia without making it too sugary sweet/unrealistic, but alas, that is up to the powers that be!_


	51. Dark Place

"…so here he is, this rookie talking my ear off about how he thinks we need an arrest warrant to do this, how we can't just go accusing him like that, how it'll only make him suspicious and more likely to destroy evidence…" Munch threw a pointed sideways glance at Brian, "…and remember, this was in the old days, before you needed a warrant for absolutely everything, back when- well, actually, _you_ won't remember, you're too young", he gestured at Rollins, "that's depressing-"

"The point, John, you know stories are supposed to have a point, right?" Fin cut in.

"I was getting there! Patience! We're getting to the stories about you next, Detective Tutuola."

"Can't wait." He shook his head and took a swig of his beer.

"Anyway, so we arrive at the guy's apartment building, and finally, my new partner coughs up the truth: He forgot his badge back at the precinct." This punch line invited general laughter from all around the table. "So I say: 'Brian, what the hell were you doing, polishing it?' and there's this moment of awkward silence…"

"Always prepared" Olivia teased, touching her boyfriend's arm affectionately. Brian was smirking; he clearly didn't mind being the butt of the joke but was probably glad the conversation had turned away from discussing Nick's case, a topic which had had him sitting around silently for the first half hour of dinner until Olivia had suggested they change the subject. She had decided to invite him along to the restaurant tonight, firstly because they were supposed to spend the evening together anyway until everyone had decided to go out to dinner after a long day at work, and secondly because Munch was coming along, too. It had been a little odd at first, but, to be honest, probably less awkward than if Nick had been around, too. It felt wrong, in a way, to be sitting here without him, laughing, but it was a much needed break from the eternal gloom that was present in the awareness that there wasn't much they could do to help their colleague.

"We only had you as a role model, Munch" Fin retorted. "What can you expect?"

Brian shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "We learned from the best."

"Thank you, gentlemen, I'll have you know that my skills are highly appreciated at the DA's office." And very missed at SVU, Olivia thought, especially at this difficult time. They could all use some of the lightness he brought to this case, his assurances that this wasn't the end of the world.

Amanda was smiling faintly, but remained very quiet, pushing the food around on her plate listlessly without eating. She was on her third drink though, Olivia couldn't help noticing, not that she should be one to judge in that area. But right now, they really couldn't afford to lose another detective, and Amanda had been doing much better lately, it would be bad if she became destabilized again by all this. If she were being honest, she also didn't want to have another difficult conversation with her. Murphy had been good at keeping her in check, but it would be easier for Olivia if she could just express friendly concern without having to be her boss at the same time. Luckily, she wasn't the only one who picked up on the signs. The young, blond detective seemed to elicit a certain protectiveness from the men around her, which she wasn't always sure was helpful.

"Pasta not to your taste?" Fin asked his partner, watching her stare at her plate after everyone else had finished eating.

"You know me, I'm more of a steak kind of girl."

Brian smiled at her. "That's the South talking."

"No, if it were Georgia, this would be fried chicken and cornbread." She took a courtesy bite of her food, which had to have gotten cold in the meantime.

"Don't worry, he's out for now" Munch said sympathetically. "He'll be okay."

"Who knows what'll happen now though."

"They could cut him a deal" Fin suggested. "It's been done before."

John took a sip of his water. He was the only one at the table who wasn't drinking. "The last thing One P-P want is bad publicity. They'll want to keep this quiet, move him around a bit…"

Olivia wasn't sure if she could share their forced optimism. Things weren't looking good in this case, and there were no mitigating factors. Nick had simply snapped, probably in part as a result of all his private issues. _Damn it, Nick._ If he had called any one of them, reached out in any way, they would have helped him out. What was it with her male partners and their anger issues? "It's not bad publicity if it gives the DA a chance to prove they run a clean office, weeding out bad cops."

"Bad cops?" Amanda responded angrily. "We protect a sicko like Wilkes, who was getting close to potential vics again at the time, and Nick is the bad guy for punching him? I'd punch him myself, given the chance…"

"I did not just hear that. And I'm not agreeing, I am just pointing out their angle." This sure was a touchy subject. They all knew that no matter what happened next, Nick wouldn't simply be able to come back to work with everything being just like before. Nothing would ever be the same.

"A jury wouldn't have been very sympathetic towards Wilkes" Munch stated pragmatically. "That's why they didn't want this to go to trial in the first place. IAB are the ones Nick needs to worry about. They've been after him since the shooting. They'll want to keep digging for a reason for him to go down. It's what they do, goes with their power complex." He threw a sideways glance at Brian, who had shifted uncomfortably in his seat at this last remark. "We're not talking about you, obviously."

"No, who then?" Brian asked curtly.

"People in power, way over your head. The guys in charge sitting in the nice offices, removed from doing any of the dirty work. People make a career in IAB for a reason."

"Sounds a bit paranoid to me" the younger detective replied coldly. "Blaming it on the man…who is 'the man'?" He indicated some air quotes around the term.

John wasn't fazed by the opposition. "Come on, we've all been on the receiving end of IAB's hunt, some more than others." Olivia could feel his eyes on her, and chose to avert her gaze from both men. She wasn't keen on an argument, especially since, no matter which side she took in this, it would end up being the wrong one. So she took a sip of her wine, hoping they would resolve it amongst themselves.

"And we've all had to carry the consequences, some more than others." Brian's words sounded bitter, and she became uncomfortably aware that he was the only one out of all of them who had actually been demoted as a result of his actions. Still, the implicit accusation that all of them had somehow gotten off more easily than him stung. She hadn't asked for trouble, and the entire past year had been one huge chain of consequences that had wreaked havoc in her professional and personal life.

"So Nick should have gone to prison over this, is that what you mean by consequences?" Amanda asked, a flash of something in her face that Olivia didn't quite recognize.

"Of course not" she replied, at the same time as her boyfriend retracted: "I didn't say that."

"So what?"

"Amanda…none of us want Nick in prison." Fin touched her shoulder lightly, but she shrugged him off.

"He should cooperate" Brian stated, "try and reach an agreement. I mean yeah, there's no guarantee he'll get to keep his shield for good, and maybe he will have to take some losses, but if he behaves now-"

Munch looked at him doubtfully, folding and unfolding his napkin. "And how does he know that they'll stick to their word?"

"They have to if he gets it in writing. It's the most convenient solution for everyone. You know, not everything is a clever IAB trick designed to mislead you."

"Yeah, well, IAB don't exactly have the best track record in that area" Amanda commented cynically.

"He can't lose his job now" Olivia brought up another aspect. "It would destroy him." As much as a walking time bomb as Nick could be, she truly believed that his job was a stabilizing factor in his life, the thing that kept him sane, as it was for her.

"Yeah? Maybe he should have thought of that before" Brian replied, exasperated.

"Well, that's helpful" she responded with irritation. Why couldn't he just hold back on his Nick aversion for one evening, at least in front of her colleagues?

"You know what…" Amanda got up from her seat abruptly, searching her purse in a hurry for her wallet. Her hands were shaking slightly as she put far too many Dollar bills down on the table. "I think I'm going to head home."

"Hey, come on, stay…" Munch asked her, giving up when he saw that it was futile.

"No, no, you guys stay, I'm going to call it a night." She put on her jacket and turned around, avoiding everyone's eyes on her.

"I'll walk you to the subway" Fin offered kindly, getting up as well.

"You don't need-"

"It's fine, I was just going to head home, too." He exchanged a look with Olivia, who gave him a very slight nod. Amanda was visibly upset and if Fin could figure out what was going on with her –although she had little hope of Fin sharing this information with her- all the better.

"Get home safely" she said, watching them leave.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow, Liv. And Munch-"

"I'll be around."

Fin nodded at the men, put down some cash as well and went after Amanda. There was a moment of awkward silence at the sudden departure. Olivia exchanged a questioning look with Brian before turning to John. "I think we should get going as well. Long day ahead and all."

The older man nodded in understanding. "Feel free to go ahead, I'll be Master of Coin if I ever see that waiter again."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. Though you may never see your change again."

"I think we'll take our chances." She started fishing for her wallet, but Brian was faster, handing Munch what was clearly enough money to cover both of them. She hated when he did that, especially since she earned more, but allowed it for the moment because the last thing she wanted to do was to get into one of their many who's-paying-for-what arguments in front of John Munch, who would never be able to shut up about it. "Thanks, John" she added.

They exchanged a somber look, and in a weirdly gentle gesture, John briefly reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "I'll stop by again."

She acknowledged this with a small nod and they got up, with Brian patting John on the back. "It was good to see you, John."

"You too. Take care."

She could still sense Munch's eyes on them as they left the restaurant, pushing through crowded tables to the exit. The cool night breeze felt good on her face as she zipped up her jacket, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. The restaurant had been stuffy and loud. They walked next to each other in silence for a moment, picking up the pace quickly, and there was a palpable gap between them. She let the conversation replay in her mind, discarding the options they had come up with for Nick as quickly as she thought them through_. If only he would fight for himself more_. It worried her how he had almost seemed to be the first one to give up, despite everyone's support. On the other hand, there really wasn't much she could do for him, and there were other concerns on her mind, concerns to do with cases she was actually responsible for, with a baby boy she wasn't responsible for and a young woman's burned body under a bridge, an image she couldn't get out of her mind.

Brian cleared his throat. "So is there something going on between Amaro and Rollins?"

"What?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and it was a very random thing for Brian, who knew neither of them very well, to ask.

"Just speculating. She was acting kind of weird, right? Something between them?"

She had never seriously considered it, although it was definitely possible, but if it was…no, she didn't even want to think about that. That would push things to a whole new level of messy. "Don't know…don't want to know, to be honest."

He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. "None of my business."

"No." Yet now that he had said it, she couldn't stop wondering about it. She hoped he was wrong.

"Aren't you curious though?"

"I'm not going to ask either of them who they're sleeping with" she replied incredulously. "Besides, we have bigger problems right now."

"Right, right." He drew up his shoulders against the wind, walking slightly behind her.

"I mean, was that really necessary?"

"What?"

"You_ know_ what." It irritated her to no end when he played the innocent card. "It's bad enough Murphy kept going on about how Nick had it coming, but you, too?"

"Hey, I barely said anything, but if you ask me…yeah, he's the one who screwed up, and it's not even a one-time thing. Every time I see or hear about the guy he's either punching someone, shooting someone, pulling his gun on someone-"

"Thanks for the observation." She walked further ahead of him, trying to walk off her anger.

He caught up with her, lengthening his strides. "Oh, so you're going to be mad at me now because I'm pointing out the truth?"

"Mad" was an understatement. She was fuming. How could anyone be so self-righteous? "It's not about you stating the obvious, it's the fact that you can't understand that we're trying to support a friend here!"

"But he's not dying!" he shouted, equally angry. She was glad the street around them was deserted. "He just needs to take responsibility for his behaviour and get some help. So what if he has to spend the next five years directing traffic, maybe he shouldn't be walking around with a gun going apeshit crazy on perps, have you ever thought about that? I know guys like him…it never ends well."

She had known from the start it would be a bad idea to discuss this with him, that he wouldn't understand why she needed to have Nick's back on this. Inviting him along tonight had been stupid. She needed to keep these parts of her life separate, and that was a pretty sad realization. "Well, I'm glad your prejudice has been confirmed! You've never liked him-"

"And you've always tried to save his ass when he's done nothing to deserve it!"

"He'd do the same for me!"

"That doesn't make it any less wrong!"

"What if it were me, Brian?" she asked more quietly, trying to sound as factual as possible. "Beating up a sadistic, dangerous perp, shooting a dangerous perp…does it make me dangerous?"

His expression changed from anger over incredulity to a disturbed helplessness. "That was different."

"Was it?" Her memory of how Nick had arrived at the beach house was a blur. She couldn't remember his face as he had frozen in the doorway, couldn't recall the sequence of events of how or when she had left her corner. All she remembered was the relieving sound of his voice as he had crouched down next to her, talking to her, and his lack of horror at what he was seeing, his incredible composure when he had been in the car with her, both times.

"Lewis was a sadistic, murdering rapist who-"

"He didn't-"

"-who tortured you. He nearly _killed_ you." He ran one hand down his face.

Her stomach contracted at his words. She didn't want to talk about this. "This guy, Wilkes, you didn't see the pictures…" Fantasies, yes, but fantasies that weren't all too far from Lewis', only with kids.

"That guy wasn't hurting Amaro."

"But he was. He did." Because sometimes, it was simply too much, too much ugliness. Wilkes had flipped the switch, he had reached that ugly, dark place inside Nick that had caused him to snap. And once that place had been reached, there was no going back.


	52. Faking Good

He was lingering. As much as he framed it in terms of excuses, in terms of needing a day off after finishing up an exhausting case and wanting to take advantage of the nice weather to work on his basketball game, there was only one way of putting it: He was hovering, hanging around close by just in case, from the moment he had started the day by digging out his dormant cooking skills and making a nice breakfast for both of them. She hadn't felt like eating, but had humoured him, and he had seemed pleased at the normality of her behaviour. She should probably be grateful for Brian's attentiveness, moved that he hadn't forgotten and appreciative of his quiet support, but his false pretences annoyed her. She wanted to forget and treat this as a day like any other, but that was impossible to do with him lingering around. At least he had been smart enough not to bring it up so far. Taking the day off had been a mistake. The only reason she had even done it was that she wanted to avoid everyone's worried looks, the pity and subtle questions. Of course, her taking time off work when she was desperately needed had produced the opposite effect, jogging everyone's memory of the date and leading Fin to ask her out of the blue if she was okay and if Cassidy was around at the moment. And it wasn't just Fin, even Munch had called her the previous day, asking her how she was doing and telling her nice little positive anecdotes from his own life, as if she didn't realize that his retirement had partly had to do with what had happened to her. People remembered.

But that was precisely what she didn't want, was it? She didn't want to have a special 2013 date that would continue to haunt her for all eternity. She had looked at Lewis' body and buried him. All she wanted today was to have a moment to herself, just one fucking moment of peace and grace to grasp the fact that it was all over, that after a year, she was still here, her body and mind had healed and the scars that were there were beginning to fade. Some days, they looked darker, an angry shade of red, and other days, they weren't as visible. To some extent, they would stay, but that year of frightening significance was over. She would divide between "before" and "after" no more, because she had already been through every season, every event of the calendar once since _that _day. Her mourning period for her self was over. Other events would fill her life from now on, other dates she would rather remember, and that horrific four-day spring ordeal would fade, would become a small part of a larger story. She had fought to regain her self, piece by piece, and although things were different –unspeakably different- from last year, there was a new normality in that.

And so she had told Brian that she needed to go out for a walk, and had declined his offer to come with her. There were some things, some rituals that she needed to go through on her own, especially after this long, crazy year. She hadn't said that, obviously. He had accepted her rejection, as he respected her space so often, and she had kissed his cheek and told him she would be back soon, unable to express how much it meant to her. He had texted her after she had gone out, as an afterthought to tell her where he would go to shoot some hoops, just in case.

She had switched her phone to silent and started walking, just walking without a particular destination in mind. Her feet had taken her to Central Park, where, in a way, it had all started. Still, the place held no emotional significance for her. There was no connection with Lewis. She had started to walk faster until she was nearly running, relishing the feeling of air in her lungs, the warm spring sunrays on her face.

She was passing runners, athletic marathon runners with fancy shoes, occasional runners immersed in finding the right running song, seniors, cool mom runners who were pushing a fancy buggy, obese runners struggling to lose some weight. She watched all of them more consciously than usual, reading into their faces, imagining their stories. She passed families, dog walkers, teenagers smoking behind a tree, a homeless guy sitting on a bench, an arguing couple, an elderly woman pushing a walker, a group of Dutch tourists taking pictures. They were alive, all of them, as was she, and she was one of them. There was no glass wall separating her from them, and as that realization hit her, it was as if she could feel her own strength, her own alive-ness inside her. Despite everything she saw on a day to day basis, she was able to walk through a park without fear or mistrust of people, without bitterness or hatred for the world. She could enjoy the weather and smile at a toddler trying to chase after pigeons. These were small things, perhaps, but they mattered. "What am I supposed to do, smell the flowers and pretend that everything's okay again? Fake happiness until it comes?" she had once asked her therapist. It dawned on her now that she hadn't been so far off the mark. She had gone along with it for so long, acted the part again and again, changed up her routines, focused on the small things. But right here, right now, she wasn't faking anything. This was real. The thing with light was that it couldn't be grasped or held on to, only seen and felt and cherished while it lasted. Whatever had happened last year, last month, last week, last night, whatever might happen tomorrow, didn't matter now. Right at this moment, she was well.

And as she enjoyed her freedom, the way her arms and legs flexed and her chest filled with air, she suddenly knew where her feet were taking her. Or rather, where she had been taking them without thinking about it. She didn't know how long she had been walking for. It had been a while for sure, as she had left both the Lake and Turtle Pond behind her, heading north. She paused for a moment on the edge of the Great Lawn, surveying the area. All around her, the grass stretched out, a lush green springing to life in the middle of the city and behind, the skyline was visible. As usual around this season, the lawn was covered in people who were sunbathing, studying, reading a newspaper, having lunch with their business blazers neatly folded beside them, throwing balls and frisbees around, playing the guitar or simply sitting in the grass, smoking something she didn't want to identify right now. She took it all in for a moment, until one of the young women who were practically sitting at her feet looked up from her books. "Are you lost? Need directions to anywhere?"

"No, thanks." She took a few steps back from the girls –students, she guessed- and continued walking until she reached the edge of the lawn, cutting through to the basketball courts. As she walked along the high chain-link fence, she noticed the signs all around for the first time in years. "Personal items on benches can easily be stolen." Caution after caution.

She spotted him easily, tall and slim as he was, looking younger from far away than he actually was in his old, baggy shirt. He was playing with some random men in their thirties, only exchanging the occasional word with them. He could definitely keep up with them, but none of them were playing aggressively. This was just a warm-up. She entered the court, remaining on the edge to watch them for a moment. Brian managed to score a goal from outside the three-point line and promptly made what she assumed was some wise-ass comment about it, which the black-haired man dismissed with an easy laugh. It was at that moment, before they continued playing, that he spotted her, visibly surprised. She gave him a slight, dismissive wave, trying to indicate that she hadn't meant to disrupt him, but he quickly talked to the men, shaking their hands in goodbye and drawing their attention to her. She felt slightly embarrassed as they grinned when he left them to meet her.

"Hey, Liv." He put his arm around her shoulders, steering them away from the game.

"Hey, no need to quit, keep playing. I just thought I'd stop by."

"Nah, it's fine." A slight smile tugged at his lips as the shadow of the moving leaves on the trees played on his face. "Better stop when you're ahead."

"You sure?"

"Positive." He rotated his left shoulder, trying to loosen some tension.

"Did you have a nice game?"she asked.

"Yeah, just with these guys. What about you? Good walk?"

"Yeah, actually." She wrapped her arm around his waist as they began to walk side by side, passing through the gate again to leave the courts behind.

"You keep smiling" he observed, sounding somewhat suspicious. "It's starting to freak me out."

"Oh, I'm just thankful" she replied thoughtfully.

"Thankful?"

"Yeah. You know, not like I'll keep staring at every rainbow in appreciation, but…glad." She could feel his eyes on her, but kept looking straight ahead, not wanting to make a big deal of this whole thing.

"Me too" he murmured, leaning over and placing a firm kiss on her forehead, lingering and sweet.

She briefly closed her eyes as his stubble tickled her face. "You need a shave."

"Excuse me?"

"You're scratchy." She smirked as he sighed, mildly annoyed. "What?"

"Well, how would you like it if I told you to shave your legs?"

"How often do my legs scratch your face?" she retorted. "In any case, you'd probably be right."

"Hm-mh." He touched his own cheek and chin, brushing against the skin.

She kicked a rock out of the way as they turned back onto the path, heading south again at snail speed.

"Hey, Liv…there's something I got to say. And then I'll drop it, but I just…"

"Okay. Shoot." Did they really have to do this now?

"I'm…" He struggled to find the words, holding back on her. "Well, to be honest, there was a time when I didn't imagine that we'd…still be here. You know, after everything."

"Yeah. Me neither." He could say that again.

"But we are."

"Right." She didn't know how, but somehow, they had made it this far.

"And I'm glad, you know. I mean I wish all those…things hadn't happened, don't get me wrong, but I'm just…glad you're here. Anyway" he cleared his throat awkwardly, "that's that."

She was moved by his earnestness. "You know, without you, I don't know how…" She didn't want to say it, or even contemplate it. "This past year, you've been…amazing. And I know it's been really hard and I'm sure I haven't exactly made it easy, but…thank you." She blinked quickly, trying to get rid of the moisture that was threatening to form in her eyes. There was no reason to cry. None at all.


	53. Joining

She put the bill on the "paid – Liv" file, throwing the empty envelope into the recyclable paper bag she had set up under the dining table. They weren't even halfway done, and she was already bored senseless. As organized as she was in her work life, she had gotten into a bad habit of allowing her mail to pile up on the desk, paying her bills in bulk whenever she felt ready to deal with reality. Ironically, this was one thing Brian was more responsible about. He was a "pay it the second you get it, don't get in trouble" kind of guy in that department, despite the fact that once he had paid it, he just stuffed it into a gigantic box rather than filing it as she did in binders of different categories. Nevertheless, he had somehow been faster at getting the papers that concerned both of them out again, and was already punching numbers into a calculator while she was still marking the amounts with a highlighter and trying to disentangle her private financial business from theirs. It was something they hadn't done in a long time, but every once in a while, avoidance became an irritant in and of itself. A desire for order had gripped her. It was the same kind of desire that sometimes (rarely) lead her to sort through her wardrobe and remove all clothes she didn't actually wear, or to go on a cleaning spree. And so, this rainy Sunday had turned into "let's sort out our money business" Sunday, which she knew was just a preparation for "let's do our tax returns" Sunday, an event she wasn't particularly looking forward to.

"Shit" he muttered.

"What?" she asked without looking up from a plumber's bill that had made her wonder if she had chosen the right profession.

"I forgot the online bills."

"Half the businesses only do online billing these days." She still preferred getting an actual piece of paper to hold in her hands.

"I know, and I got the out of the ordinary expenses right here, but I forgot the phone/internet deal."

"Anything else? Cable?" She threw away yet another piece of paper that had looked like a letter from her bank but was actually just an advertisement. How was it that the only things she got in writing anymore where the things she didn't want?

"No, I got that."

"Do you know how much it is?"

"The phone deal? Yeah."

"Just put it down for now and print it out later." Once he turned on the computer and opened his email account, there was bound to be something that distracted him, which meant that they would be sitting here all day.

"What, you don't want proof?" he joked.

"I just assume you're not going to cheat me out of a couple of Dollars a month. Call it a leap of faith." She glanced up and saw him frowning at his list of expenses, the end of the pencil touching his lips. "Something wrong?"

He sighed, running one hand through his hair. "This is a hassle."

"Tell me about it."

"I mean what, you pay this and I pay that and then we do the math and I transfer money to your account or you transfer money to mine…we're both busy enough as it is."

"Got a better idea?"

"We could just get a joint account for common expenses."

"A joint account?" That was a new idea. An idea that instantly rang as a threat, that sounded like a loss of independence and fusion of identities. It was an idea that was entirely atypical of Brian, because it smelled of commitment in a different sense and living past the present day. If they had a joint bank account, they would both be legally responsible for it and the actions the other person took with it. Moreover, it would be harder to disentangle their lives, should they separate again. And she really didn't want to add money as an issue to their relationship.

Her reaction had to show on her face, because he backtracked. "Just in addition to our private accounts, one that we can run household expenses through."

It made perfect sense. It was the rational thing to suggest, as they were already pooling their resources. She couldn't think of a good reason against it. And yet…after being financially independent her entire adult life, that seemed like a huge leap of faith. Surely, they should be thinking this through more. Surely, she should make a pro and con list first. "We could do that" she said slowly.

"I mean we've been living together, eating together, we're practically a household."

Practically, but not legally. If they officially became more of a financial "we", their status as a household (or not) became harder to define. They clearly weren't just roommates, but what were they? Cohabitants, that was the rather sterile term. But they were more than that, in so many ways. She trusted Brian. "I hate to break it to you, but we kind of are a household already."

"Exactly. So we can simplify things, or we can keep doing it the complicated way, I'm fine either way." He looked back down at his papers, casually flipping through them, but she could tell that the implications of his proposition were just dawning on him, too, and starting to freak him out slightly.

"A joint account sounds reasonable" she replied pragmatically. "The less we have to do this number crunching, the better. We can budget what we need based on this." She gestured at the huge piles of papers and open binders on the table.

"Fine. I'll ask at the bank tomorrow."

"Thanks."A joint account for the sole reason that their paperwork was too much of a hassle…when had banking become the new form of romantic commitment? Ensuring the equality of their financial contributions might just turn out to be something that would cut back on arguments. She had to admit that it was actually a good idea. The simplicity of the solution and the fact that they had decided this just like that caught her by surprise. In many ways, it resembled their decision to move in together, to really move in somewhere new beyond her staying at his place because she had needed accommodation and couldn't be alone at the time.

Brian had gone back to ticking off the numbers he had already punched into the calculator, penciling down notes. "I hated math in high school" he grumbled.

"I was actually pretty good at it."

"That's because you were good at all subjects."

"Obviously" she replied drily. He wasn't far off the mark. Applying herself academically had been her way of coping with the instability of her home life. "What about you? Too cool for school?"

"I always saw myself as more of a rebel. Until I wanted to be a cop, anyway."

Thinking about their youth made her wonder about the kind of childhood and adolescence that awaited Noah Porter. Outside the system, one would hope. She put down her highlighter. "You know, I went to the custody hearing for Baby Boy Doe…for Noah the other day." She hadn't told him. It was a touchy subject between them, as Brian had tensed up the last time she had brought it up when telling him about the Ellie Porter Case, as if he had expected her to drop the bomb on him again that she wanted to adopt this child.

"Yeah? How did it go?"

"He's officially under the care of the state again" she sighed. "Ellie has no family who can look after a baby. But the social worker says she has a more permanent placement lined up that could turn into an adoption, once it's officially allowed. A couple with an older kid…"

"That's good news at least." He gave her a searching look. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's for the best." She knew in her heart that these words were true. Noah would hopefully grow up in a loving family –a healthy, white baby put up for adoption was easy to place- and in one sense he was lucky at least: He would not remember any of this. Not his time with child pornographers, not his inconsistent placements, not his mother, none of it. That's what she tried to tell herself, anyway. She hoped the lack of a consistent carer hadn't harmed him too much already. And although it was for the best, and although she had so resented Ellie for not being the mother her son needed, she also felt a deep sadness for her, dying alone, burning to death under a bridge. She had believed her, believed her even though she was supposed to know better than to believe a drug addict who claimed she would never go back to using drugs. Seeing the young woman with this child she couldn't possibly have provided adequate care for had been painful. She would catch her killers and they would pay for their actions.

Brian folded his hands on the table, moving around in his chair uncomfortably. "Look, I…was just worried that it wasn't a good time."Actually, she believed his exact words had been "I don't want kids", although that might have changed somewhat.

"I know, we don't need to go over this again. It's…" She couldn't say "fine", because that would have been a lie, but she could accept that this was the way things were. She, they, couldn't possibly take care of an infant without making some major sacrifices first, sacrifices which they clearly weren't ready to make at this time or they would have made them. Maybe this would change, or maybe it wouldn't. Still, saying a definitive goodbye to Noah had been hard, especially with her involvement in his mother's murder. She wasn't choosing Brian over Noah, a baby who she would never have gained custody of anyway, but she was making a conscious choice for herself and the boy. Noah deserved a chance at a fresh start somewhere, away from all this darkness. And so did she. She still wasn't sure whether that was selfish or selfless. She chose to believe that it was right, because she had to. She was making peace. And somewhere at the back of her mind, John Munch's voice popped up out of nowhere, and she could imagine him saying "c'est la vie".


	54. Knowing

She wasn't sure why she knew at exactly that moment, coming home from a dinner with Amanda of all people. It wasn't like anything in particular had happened. She just looked at him and knew. And that was that.

Dinner had been rather awkward at first, and she had quickly realized that she hadn't been alone with Amanda outside a work meeting in ages. The fact that she was now, for the moment at least, her boss again hadn't helped matters, but it had seemed necessary to have a real conversation that amounted to more than giving orders and listening to reports. Amanda had accepted reluctantly, probably expecting to be grilled with questions, but Olivia knew better. They had been getting along under Murphy's watch, and although she didn't think she could ever forgive or forget the willingness to manipulate evidence in exchange for a relief from gambling debt, life had thrown them too many curveballs over the past few months to hold on to grudges. So, noticing the changes in her behaviour, she had sat down with Amanda, and they had talked about anything and nothing over a plain dinner at the bar. She wasn't sure if she was any smarter after this, but she knew that at the very least, Amanda was more likely to talk to her now. Or maybe she was kidding herself on that end, and all she had done was to keep Amanda from going home and doing whatever it was she did when she went home alone.

Either way, it had been a nice dinner, but coming home after a long day, tired after only one glass of wine, was a relief nonetheless. She hung up her jacket on the hat stand, opened her umbrella beside the door to let it dry and kicked off her wet shoes, too lazy to put them away. "Hey, home at last."

"So I see" he replied, stirring from his semi-asleep state on the couch. The lights had been dimmed, but the TV was on –some kind of sports game, from the sound of it- but he hadn't really been watching it. He was surrounded by a pile of clean laundry that he had apparently been folding and stacking in a basket, until he had presumably dozed off and forgotten all about it. There was a bottle of beer on the table in front of him. "Good dinner?"

"Yeah." She was tempted to just crawl onto the couch next to him and hide under a blanket without changing first, but something kept her from it. She ran one hand through her lank, slightly moist hair. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, left-overs." He started folding some clothes again, glancing back at the screen to check what he had missed. Apparently, the score wasn't good, or so she assumed from his expression. "One of us needs to grab some groceries tomorrow."

"My turn, I know."

She watched him, standing a few feet away from the couch, and it felt as if she were somewhere outside herself, observing the scene from a distance, both of them in this living room. It fit. And it wasn't because he was doing laundry, or because she was exhausted and too lazy for change, or afraid of being alone, or because either of them were settling for whatever they could get, or because they had been through so much shit together that they wouldn't know how to get by on their own. It wasn't a fluffy, romantic feeling either, not exactly. It was the solid clarity of knowing what she wanted, and the absence of fear of it. And then she realized that he would never take that step, that it was something to do with not wanting to push her and holding back for all the wrong reasons, that he was waiting for something. This truly had to be her call.

"Bri?"

"Hm?" His eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him, apparently fascinated by European soccer. Not exactly his regular sport.

"Could you turn off the TV for a moment?"

"Now?"

"Yes, please." This was crappy timing, but if she didn't bring it up now, she would overanalyze it and probably never do it.

He held up the remote control and pressed the button. "What's up?"

"Nothing." She stood frozen in place, unable to move. Her courage was about to leave her as he looked at her and she saw his expression change to one of brooding concern.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed. "Bad news?"

"Do you think we should get married?" the words tumbled out of her mouth.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Wh- What?" He dropped the T-shirt he had been folding into his lap.

"Do you think it's a good idea?"

"What the…are you asking?"

"I guess so. Will you marry me?" she muttered quickly, nearly stumbling over the words.

He simply gaped at her, there from the sofa, between disheveled clothes and a half-empty bottle of beer. Not exactly the ideal reaction, but she was sort of ambushing him. "Seriously?"

What kind of a stupid answer was that? "Yes." She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. This required some elaboration. She was supposed to say romantic things…or something. But her mind drew a blank. "I'd like to be with you. Um, permanently. We don't have to do this, it's not about a piece of paper. And we won't have to break up if you say no, I just thought…" she trailed off. She didn't know what she had been thinking. Clearly, they were on different pages here. This was completely insane. "So?"

"Jesus, Liv…" He got up from the couch, approaching her slowly. His face was unreadable to her.

"I know we haven't really talked about it" she rambled on. "But we've been together a while, we've already been through any kind of drama together, you- I trust you. If I was ever going to marry anyone, it would be-"

"Yes" he interrupted her, drawing closer.

"-you. Yes?!" She had expected a "we need to talk about this", "let me think about it", or "are you fucking serious"? It would have been her response if the situation had been reversed. She would have hated to be surprised like this.

"Yes! Of course!" he replied, his voice cracking. "Let's get married."

A tingling sensation began to spread from her head all the way down to her toes. "Bri, are you…crying?" He actually seemed to be tearing up a little. She was seriously moved. Well, moved and half amused. She couldn't believe this was actually happening, and felt an insane urge to laugh.

"Naw, just…" He turned his face away from her, but she put her hand on his cheek to stop him, leaned in and kissed him firmly. He put his arms around her, pulling her close. He smelled like shower gel, fabric conditioner and beer. When they broke the kiss, they stood for a moment, their foreheads touching. It wasn't kneefalls, declarations of undying love and candles. It wasn't something she had ever truly seen for herself in her own future. But it was them, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Brian shook his head, still bewildered. "This isn't one of those weird dreams again, is it?"

"Do you frequently dream about me proposing to you?"

"A man's gotta dream. Although it'd probably be the other way around…"

She shrugged, pulling him even closer. "Equality, baby."

"So where's my ring?" he joked with a smirk.

She laughed softly. "You wish."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering there for a moment in silence. It was then that the realization of what had just transpired began to dawn on her. They were going to get married. She wasn't sure what exactly that would change, but marriage suggested permanence, commitment to working at this relationship. It was a new phase in their lives. It was weirdly traditional, and definitely not what the plan had been when they had started rekindling their relationship.

"Are you sure about this?" she suddenly asked, pulling back to study his face. Was he just going along with this because it seemed like a cool idea at the moment? Because she had forced him to make a choice?

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" He sounded half confused, half amused.

"No, but…you said once that I always take charge and that you don't get a say in things. Is this a situation like that?"

"Oh, totally." He couldn't help smirking at her reaction to this answer. "But I don't mind."

"Why did you say yes?"

He turned serious at this question, pulling back as well without lowering his arms. "Why do you think?"

She hated complicated guessing games. "Maybe because you don't want to…lose me, or because it seems inevitable-"

"Because I want to marry you?"

"Possibly."

"It sounded kind of nice when you said it." He dropped his arm and they moved back over to the sofa, sitting down with her leaning against him slightly. "Just really random."

"I wasn't planning this. It just seemed right."

"Yeah."

"I'm not changing my name though."

He shrugged. "Me neither."

She didn't know how she knew. She just did.


	55. Summer

It was a warm, sunny day despite the light breeze that washed in from the bay. Not your typical August smog-filled heat, but pleasant enough to justify having the champagne reception outdoors. The ceremony itself had taken place inside, albeit with floor length windows and a stunning view overlooking Hudson River. They had kept it short and sweet – no religion, no soppy speeches, singing or poetry readings, no lengthy walks down any aisles. (John had congratulated them on that choice, speaking from experience.) Brian had been so relieved when she had promised that they would keep their vows brief and to the point, and still, her voice had wavered a little as she had promised to be his companion, through good times and bad, all the days of her life. She secretly hoped that they had passed their fair share of bad times.

She was still holding on to his arm, knowing she would have to let go soon as their guests were joining them outside, wanting to congratulate them. It was a small gathering, just a few friends and colleagues, but she couldn't be happier to see them here. As they were trickling out of the room to join them on the lawn, Brian put his other hand on the one she had on his arm and squeezed it before letting go.

It was their best man who approached them first, looking formal and commanding in his suit. That impression quickly changed, however, when she saw the warmth and tenderness that radiated off him as he took them in. "What can I say, congratulations to both of you. You'll have a good life together. "He hugged her, whispering "I'm happy for you" and shook Brian's hand.

"Thank you, Captain." She felt a rush of joy at his heartfelt congratulations. She was so glad he had made it back in time for the wedding. It seemed important to have him here. It was silly, but somehow, his being here on this day gave her a sense of completeness.

"Liv, you realize you don't have to call me that anymore, right?"

She shrugged. "Old habits."

Eileen came up behind her husband, looking classy as usual, and spoke her own kind words of congratulations. Donald smiled at her, that quick, small adoring smile he reserved only for her, and Olivia couldn't stop watching the pair. A few months away seemed to have done both of them a world of good, and she could only hope that one day, she and Brian would be as lucky as them.

"Yo!" Fin interrupted them, followed by John, Nick and Amanda so a small group formed around them. "You made Munch cry, Liv. Never thought I'd live to see the day." In an entirely uncharacteristic gesture, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"Careful, my friend" John replied somberly. "I may have to get rid of all the witnesses."

"Aw, John…" Brian clapped his shoulder. "I know losing me to Liv must be hard, but I still love you too, man."

"Bastards" the older man muttered as the others were all laughing at him. "Make no mistake, those were tears of pity."

Nick was the first to break up the general teasing, hugging Olivia and exchanging an extremely awkward handshake with Brian. His simple "Congratulations. I hope you're happy together." sounded like fairly ambiguous well-wishing. She couldn't blame him. This had to be hard for him, in light of the recent dissolution of his own marriage. The others followed suit, each saying something personal. Beneath John's morbid "let's hope first time's the charm for you", and the way he hugged both of them, she could see that he was actually pretty touched.

Their small squad circle was once again interrupted by Nathaniel running towards them. "Congratulations!" he shouted what he had obviously been instructed to say. "Here, I'm supposed to give you this." He handed Olivia a small, red and white bouquet of mini-gerbera and baby's breath. She hadn't really chosen to have flowers around, but this was sweet.

"Thank you! These are lovely!"

"What, none for me?" Brian asked, ruffling his nephew's hair to his dismay.

"I knew it!" Nathaniel exclaimed proudly. "I knew you'd get married!"

"You were smarter than us there, buddy" Fin said grimly.

They stepped back to let Jessica and her daughter approach. Reah was beaming brightly in her new green dress, and Jessica was close to tears as she hugged both of them. "That was beautiful. I so, so wish you all the best."

"Thank you" Olivia replied earnestly. "And thanks again for helping out with the wedding." She had found out pretty late in the process that wedding planning was not her strong suit, most of all because they had resisted having an actual ceremony until the very last minute, and hadn't exactly given themselves time to plan or reserve anything. Their initial plan had been to just go straight down to city hall and get it over with. The slippery slope towards an actual wedding had started by wanting to have a few witnesses. Her new sister-in-law had been more than happy to jump in and get involved. This had led to some disagreements, as Jessica had been quick to find out that they didn't want much of the traditional wedding stuff, but mainly just to have a garden party with their friends. All this family stuff, including Brian's rather traditional background, still felt foreign to her. But she had to admit that the venue probably wouldn't have looked as perfect as it did without her sister-in-law colour-coordinating. Jessica had also gone with her to pick out something to wear, accepting her choice not to go with a traditional wedding dress, not even one with the humiliating "mature bride" label. She didn't feel a need to be any type of bride, and Brian didn't make much of a groom, either. They didn't want any of that frilly stuff; they simply wanted to be married. So she had decided to go with a relatively short, simply cut pale gold satin dress, which turned out to be perfect because she could move and feel comfortable in it.

If there were any regrets today, it was that her brother and his family hadn't come. She had invited them, but they had lost touch again, and things were as complicated as ever, with Simon being…Simon. Any attempts at re-connection had always had to come from her unless he happened to be in trouble, and she didn't want to force the issue. She wouldn't cut ties completely if he wanted to have some sort of relationship, but they would never be a family in any real sense, would never sit around looking at photo albums or argue over anything and everything. Perhaps their history, and the history that pre-dated their own existence, didn't allow for that.

She banished the sad thought from her mind. She didn't want to be thinking about Simon, or her mother, or what her mother would have to say about this day, right now. She didn't want to be feeling sad anymore, not after the way the past months and years had been tinged in hues of blue. So she took a look around, taking in her friends dressed up formally, her friends outside a police context, her NYPD family. Melinda was hanging back behind the others a little, talking to Brian's partner Jordan and a couple of his work colleagues. Luckily, Brian had felt no desire to invite Tucker, but even Rafael Barba had shown up today and was slowly making his way towards them.

"Interesting outfit" Amanda muttered quietly, noticing that Olivia's eyes were on him.

"Uh, yeah." Underneath his suit, Barba was wearing a hideous purple shirt with a darker, matching tie. "I hope he doesn't wear that to court."

"…unless he's trying to lose."

"Olivia, Brian…" He shook both their hands formally, feeling visibly ill at ease at this gathering although the others had begun to talk amongst themselves. Nathaniel had already run off somewhere, and Reah was taking pictures of everyone including herself with her smartphone. "Congratulations. It was a nice ceremony."

"Thank you."

"Thanks. That's all Liv, really" Brian said, slightly embarrassed.

"And your sister" she reminded him, gesturing at Jessica, who had been smiling at Barba.

They had been moving over towards the table slowly, where a young woman had been filling up glasses with champagne or, alternatively, juice. The guests all helped themselves to a glass, forming small groups and standing around, talking, until Cragen raised his hand.

"May I have your attention for a moment, everyone?" the Captain called. The rest of the small gathering drew closer, and Fin silenced any remaining chatterers with a firm look. "I know both of you, independently of each other, said 'no speeches', and I hope you will forgive me for this, but…well, old habits don't die easily, so allow me to lecture you one last time." Everyone laughed at this, and Olivia exchanged a brief look of mock annoyance with her new husband before taking his arm again.

"Just this once!" Brian called.

"Thank you. Now I know that this day isn't exactly an event most of us expected. I believe the word 'crazy' has been used in this context several times, most of these times by John here." Munch gestured to raise an invisible hat at the renewed laughter. "I also won't bore you with funny stories from the past and assurances about how I knew this day would come ever since you two were doe-eyed rookies, because that would be factually inaccurate."

"Doe-eyed?" Olivia interrupted with raised eyebrows.

"I think he's talking about me" Brian whispered, grinning.

"But, as they say, good things come to those who wait. For sixteen years. If that's true, then…well…you two are in for a load of good." He paused and his expression turned serious. He was addressing them now, rather than the group. "You better be. You so deserve it."

Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat, making herself smile as Brian covered the hand on his arm with his.

Cragen turned his attention back to the gathering. "However, they also say brevity is the soul of wit, and so with my deepest…respect and affection for these two, I would like to invite you to raise your glasses to Liv and Brian. May the rest of your lives be filled with love, joy and blue skies ahead."

The guests toasted, and she was glad at the chance to drink a sip of the champagne. The bubbly liquid felt good in her dry throat. The more light-hearted part of the day could begin now. But perhaps speeches weren't all that bad, not at a joyous occasion.

Brian cleared his throat loudly. "Hey, sorry to interrupt once more…" There was an anti-climactic way to begin a speech. "We just wanted to thank you all for coming today. It means a lot. So…thank you. And enjoy yourselves." He looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, thank you" she added, not sure if that really contributed anything. "And thank you, Captain." _For everything._ She closed the distance between them and gave him a brief hug, to the applause and a drawn-out "aw" from Brian's young nephew, who had turned up again.

When this formal part was done and everyone had turned their attention back to whatever was in their glasses, Jordan Lamar and a woman from Brian's work, Zoe Garaventa, came over to congratulate them. After a few moments of small talk, which quickly turned away from the wedding and the brief honeymoon they had planned to other things, Olivia noticed that Nick was standing off to the side by himself, clearly brooding. She excused herself, walking over to join her partner.

"Hey. Cheers." She clinked glasses with him, as he had barely taken a sip of his champagne.

He gave her a rare, small smile. "Cheers. Nice wedding."

She laughed. "It's okay, Nick. You don't have to…do that."

"No, it is" he replied uncomfortably. "Look, Liv, I…I'm happy for you. Seriously. I do want you to be happy."

She could read in his face that he was telling the truth. "I know that. It's fine."

"Are you happy?" he asked sincerely.

She threw a glance at the group she had just left, watching the two men talking as Zoe helped herself to more champagne. "Yes, I am."

"Good." That seemed to settle the matter for him.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Really?"

"Liv, it's your wedding. Stop worrying about other people for a day."

"I'll do my best."

"Excuse me, I need to…" He nodded in the direction of the building, indicating that he was going to the bathroom. "And…Liv?" He turned back.

"What?"

"Congratulations again."

"Thank you." She thought about his comment, about how she should stop worrying about other people. Today really was the one day she wanted to be happy, a time she wanted to spend purely on the light side.

A random memory popped into her mind. It wasn't a very concrete one, but more of a visceral sensation of sitting in the autumn sun with leaves rustling around her feet, the wind blowing her hair into her face, many years ago. Elliot had been sitting beside her on a bench, each of them sipping on a cup of coffee, and she couldn't even recall much of the conversation they had been having, or what had happened that day, only that they had been laughing together at something, until he had given her that look, the intense look he sometimes used to get when she had caught him staring at her above the computer screen or when he had been upset after a rough case. She had looked away, not wanting to feel it, to acknowledge some sort of desire (for what?) in his blue eyes, not wanting to push the boundaries of their relationship. "Have you ever thought about getting married?" he had asked her, just like that. She had avoided the question, asking where this was coming from. But he hadn't dropped it, inquiring instead whether she never wanted a family, and she had nearly gotten up and walked away from him right then and there. Instead, she had asked him what he thought of marriage, speaking from experience, and he had given up on pressing the issue and simply given her a lame "it has its perks".

The memory didn't make her sad, or happy, or anything in particular. It was just there, and she let it go as quickly as it had come. In a weird way, she missed Elliot today. She wanted him to be here, to prove him right, to prove him wrong, to have her best friend here with her. At the same time, she realized that it was right for him not to be here. They had moved on. They would probably barely recognize each other now. Tearing up old wounds would have been pointless, although she wasn't sure if they were even wounds anymore or only fond memories. _Battle scars._ But she could picture him here now, waiting in the corner by the table with the champagne glasses not wanting to approach until she came to find him. She could imagine him going "Cassidy, really?" and rebuffing him for it, rejecting his marriage advice. In her fantasy world, Elliot would have smiled and hugged her, and everything would have been okay between them. For good. But then again, life wasn't a fantasy.

And wasn't it okay this way? She had closed that door a long time ago and made peace with the past. She had let it go. All was well.

Brian had approached unheard, but she didn't flinch as he touched her arm. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing in particular." She smiled at him, at how he was standing here, not running away. She took his hand into hers, interlacing their fingers.

"What?"

"Can you believe it? After all this time?"

He returned her smile. "Some things take time. Good whiskey, cheese…"

"Cheese? Way to kill the moment. They should make a card for that."

They began to make their way over to their guests again, hand in hand. A breeze washed in from the bay, carrying with it the faintest smell of salt. The sky overhead remained blue as the last sunrays of summer fell on the small gathering. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded. Faintly.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><span><em>Author's Note:<em>_ First of all__, if you've made it here, thank you for sticking with this story for so long! Second of all, yes, this truly is the end! (At least for now or until I change my mind. ;) ) All things must come to an end, and I had this ending in mind and partly written from the start, although the story as a whole took a different route than expected. There are also a couple of possible alternative endings, but you have to make a choice at some point, and this was it. Feel free to call it the sentimental choice, because it absolutely is. Thirdly, yet another thank you to all of you who reviewed, especially people who reviewed multiple times! It's always wonderful to get feedback, especially detailed feedback. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you didn't, please feel free to leave some constructive criticism. _

_Final disclaimer: This is only fanfiction, written for entertainment purposes, the franchise belongs to NBC and I am not deriving any profit off this. Now go watch the show. _

_Thank you for embarking on this adventure with me. _


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